


Like an unsung melody

by Valpur



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Alcohol, Anxiety, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Murder Husbands, Mutual Pining, Not-a-date YEAH SURE, Oral Sex, POV Multiple, Romance, Sappy Ending, Smut, i'll update the tags as the story goes on, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpur/pseuds/Valpur
Summary: When Hana Song – with her Very Selected Board of Experts – decides to do something, nothing can stand between her and her goal.Especially if such goal is to getthatcouple of obnoxious lethal nerds to admit they have a thing for each other.Even if, to be honest, a long series of mishaps tries indeed to get in their way – be it untimely video logs, ornithological accidents, shootings, car crashes and gravity.Starring:Hanzo Shimada as Lethal Nerd n. 1Jesse McCree as Lethal Nerd n. 2Hana Song as The Criminal MastermindGenji Shimada as The Cool OneLena Oxton as The Voice of ReasonLúcio Correia dos Santos as The Only Innocent Soul EverAthena as Gossip GirlBastion as DOOO-WEEEP!Ganymede as The Yellow Bundle of Doom





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I keep on telling myself "this is the last McHanzo fic before I move on to something different". And then I'm back at it again.  
> Not an AU this time, just two lovesick fools struggling to find each other with some help from a nosy gang of friends. It's a light read, but some darker themes are hinted - pls check the tags to make sure it's your cup of tea.  
> I had lots of fun writing it, just think of a fanfic version of a hybrid between an action movie and a silly rom com. And since I'm Bad at Titles, have some more lines from a Disturbed song.  
> Hope you'll enjoy this! As usual, please point out anything that sounds off, I'm all ears and I'm fueled on feedbacks :3

The corridor was empty and dark.

Well, not really, actually. The blue light vaguely traced three silhouettes shuffling on the grey linoleum, making little to no sound as they tiptoed into the shadows.

“What if he doesn’t come?” Too loud to be a whisper, too excited to sound actually worried.  Lúcio was known for not being able to keep his voice low, and Hana rolled her eyes. 

“He will”, she replied softly, clutching her smartphone.

“But what if we get into trouble?” he asked again, his breath warm on her cheek.

“We won’t, unless we get caught – something that will happen if you keep on talking!”

“And it won’t be real trouble, guys, you know? We’re not doing anything wrong. Technically”. Lena giggled and turned to her two companions, a broad smile on her lips over the blue glow of her chronal accelerator. She was nearly bouncing on her feet. “It’s for a greater good after all!”

“True. But I suspect some of the bosses wouldn’t appreciate our concern”. 

“Lúcio, if you don’t want to do this you can always go back to sleep”, Hana snapped, but her friends’ excitement was starting to get her too. 

Being in Overwatch was a big deal in its own – driving a meka, shooting the bad guys, fighting to make the world a better place and so on – but their little secret operation was something else. No orders to follow, just the three (hopefully soon four) of them and a plan she’d been working on for months.

“Who do you think I am, some kind of chicken? No way, you must’ve mistaken me for somebody else!” There was a trail of laughter in his voice, and Hana couldn’t but smile back. 

“Alright, alright, we’re almost there… time?”

“4:15 AM”, replied Lena, her sweet face shining. “We’re early”.

“Good. So… oh, here. Come on, quickly!” Hana gestured to her two companions, even if it was so dark they could as well not see her, and slid by a closed door on their left. She put her phone away and when Lena closed the zip of her hoodie the corridor went pitch black. 

In the darkness, she could feel her heart beating in her throat. It was nothing dangerous, really, the three of them had had way worse in their respective lives, but it was thrilling nonetheless. She touched the cold metal surface, and her voice stretched in the silence.

“Athena?”

A pause, and then the familiar, flat tones of their very own AI answered her call.

“Yes, agent Song”.

“Uh. Hello, sorry about the late hour, but… could you please open this door?”

“May I ask why, agent Song? For my records, of course”.

Hadn’t she known better, she’d thought she could hear something similar to curiosity in Athena’s voice.

“We need a place for a private meeting. Er – nothing shady, I swear, just… please? Can we get in?”

Athena fell silent for a long moment, then, with a beep and a buzz, the door opened, revealing walls covered in screens and a small, round table with three chairs. The light blue neons flickered for a second, then steadied.

“Ah, you’re the best girl, Athena! I’d high-five you if you only had hands!” Lúcio punched the air and, with his brightest smile, fondly patted the wall.

“Let’s go, quickly!” Lena hurried them all, and Hana didn’t leave her to wait. In the blink of an eye they were all inside, and the door closed behind them with a soft whisper.

“My protocols require me to ask you what you are up to”. 

“Don’t worry, you can assist, Athena”. Lena dropped on the nearest chair and crossed her ankles on the table. A dark strand of hair was dangling on her forehead, and she huffed it away. “Just… let’s keep it confidential, can we? For now, at least”.

“I can’t promise you that, agent Oxton”.

“I know, I know, that’s why I told you to stay with us and listen, ok? As Hana said, it’s nothing dangerous or equivocal or…”

“Well, it  _ is _ equivocal”. Hana sat on the chair opposite to her, folding her legs under her body. “I mean, it’s not something an international, secretive military organization is supposed to be doing or… Lúcio? Anything wrong?”

In his green sweatpants and black tank, Lúcio was staring at the last empty chair with knitted brows and mouth pursed in a grimace.

“I can’t sit there”, he said.

“What?” Lena shrugged and crossed her arms. 

“That’s Soldier’s chair,  _ I can’t sit there _ ! What if I catch his – uh –  _ killjoyness _ ? I don’t want to be old and bitter!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you won’t get Morrisonitis if you put your ass on his chair! It’s either that or the stool in the corner, your pick”. Hana squirmed on the cushions and checked her phone. 4:26 AM.

“Also, Jack’s quite funny in his own peculiar way. Or… well, he used to be. Anyway”, and Lena threw her long legs off the table, stood up and bumped her chair with her hip, sending it to roll toward Lúcio. “C’mon, take this. I’ve been exposed to Jack long enough to be immune to his reverse charm”. 

“Sorry, Athena, but right now it’s Lena’s turn to be the best!” He smirked and hopped on the chair, his dark dreadlocks swinging on his back.

“He should be here in seconds”. Swiping on the screen, Hana felt a remote pang of concern rattle through her body. He had all the reasons to trust them, even if a late night top secret meeting with the youngest members of Overwatch was a weird occurrence, but at the same time none to accept the invitation. And yet he was vital to their plan.

“Do you think we should – I don’t know, play the mysterious and conspirative card or just go straight to the point?”

“There’s nothing  _ straight _ involved, frog boy”, Lena chuckled as she perched on Morrison’s infamous chair. 

“Agents, I must inform you that someone’s approaching”.

Hana snapped her head up and looked at the door, but before she could do much more than process her friends' identical stares, Athena spoke again.

“Agent Shimada is on his way. He should reach you in…”

A low voice rumbled softly from beyond the threshold.

“Mph. Athena, sorry to wake you up, but I think I should get… get in there”. The words stretched and deformed into a roaring yawn, and when the door opened again Hana sat upright.

“You’re here! I knew you’d come!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever”. Genji Shimada ran his robotic hand through his green hair and ruffled it, turning it into a mass of spikes. His dark eyes were puffy and half closed. “I hope there’s a good reason to wake me up at this ungodly hour. Like, is the world ending? ‘Cause I won’t accept anything less than that…”

He yawned again, and his cyborg jaw clicked. 

“Not really, you silly bean, but we need your help”. Lena bent her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them with a wide smile.

“Come on, mate, take a seat, it’s gonna be quite the meeting!” Lúcio was nearly bouncing on his chair, and Hana let herself feel proud of the team she’d gathered. They were the best for the task at hand.

Genji turned around and checked the environment. The three chairs, usually taken by Jack, Ana and Winston on their Adult People Meetings, were not available, which left only…

“Where? On that thing?” He pointed at the stool, a small thing tucked in a corner and covered in dust.

“That, or on the ground. It’s the same for us”. Hana shrugged and Genji cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course it is. Be glad I’m a patient, easy going man…”

“… and an extremely curious one”, Lena added in a whisper. Genji grabbed the stool and opened his mouth as if to produce a snarky reply, but in the end he sighed and smirked.

“That I am. Here we are, then”. He slid the stool by the table and sat down.

Hana, Lúcio and Lena suppressed a fit of giggles in seeing their favorite cyborg ninja (not that they knew many others, to be honest) perched on his too low seat, only his shoulders and head peeking from the table.

“What? You told me to sit here!”

“True, ok, sorry, we’re not laughing, I promise”, said Lúcio, immediately snorting from his nose. Genji propped his elbows on the table and his face on his fists, squishing what little flesh cheek still remained on his face. 

“You’re a pack of brats, but bring it on, you have my attention. Why did you call me? I mean, apart from being the coolest dude in all Overwatch”.

“You wish”. Lúcio stretched and winked at him.

“Ok, down to business, loves. Hana, you ready?”

“As always”. She coughed in her fist, gently hit her chest and straightened on the chair. “Athena, I uploaded a file on your system one hour ago. Can you open it, please?”

“Processing, agent Song”, and in less than a second the flat screens behind the tables turned on and shone in bright pink. Lena moaned softly, and Hana frowned at her.

“What now?”

“It’s very…  _ pink _ !”

“Well next time you’re making the PowerPoint presentation!”

“Hell no, I hate that thing! Sorry, sorry, I won’t interrupt again”, and no one could have held a grudge at that smiling, freckled face.

“Guys?” Genji’s attempt at a question was hushed by Lúcio, who sat back against the headrest with a serious – or  _ almost _ serious – expression.

“So. Here we are – hello, Genji, and thank you for joining us in this project”. Hana’s slim hand extended to the screen and the bright ‘TEAM INTERVENTION – OBNOXIOUS NERDS RESCUE SQUAD’ words blinked in white against a pink wallpaper. “I suppose you have questions…”

“Yeah, I do. What in…”

“…  _ questions _ that this slideshow will likely answer, so please pay attention. Athena, when you’re ready”.

Next slide: Overwatch’s headquarters in Gibraltar, the very place they were in at the moment. Grey blocks, dusty corners, seagulls pooping on the roofs and on Bastion, who’d taken to like those pestering birds.

“We all know what Overwatch is. Some of us”, and she looked at Lena and Genji, “have a longer experience in the organization. That’s why it’s so important to have the two of you here”.

“Wait, this is the kind of speech I expected from Winston, why are you…”

“Genji, not now. Be quiet and listen. As I was trying to say, Overwatch has its own agenda, but that’s not what we’re discussing here tonight”. She stood up, and being the small thing she was it didn’t make much difference, but pacing back and forth in front of the screen made her feel more committed. “Overwatch is made of soldiers, but soldiers, as skilled as they may be, are most of all  _ people _ . With their own troubles, dreams, backstories and so on”. She looked at the picture behind her and clenched her jaws – it all may look silly, she was well aware of that, but she also knew the deeper truth behind it. “Look, I’m not a strategist or a veteran, none of us is, but Overwatch is more than just a bunch of dudes and their weapons. Which brings us to our core topic”.

Watchpoint: Gibraltar disappeared from the screen, replaced by a big, bright picture of a face.

“ _ Hanzo _ ?” Genji shook his head and scrunched his nose. “What? Why? Did my brother do anything stupid?  _ Again _ ?”

“Hush, darling, let Hana speak”. Lena waved her hand, quite serious.

Hanzo’s ID flashed in the dim light, his austere features almost grim in the unflattering photograph. Eyes on the objective, mouth pressed in a tight line, black beard and hair neatly combed. His gaze seemed to challenge the casual observer to say anything, promising they’d regret it.

“Your brother, exactly. We need your help to wipe that sour look from his face”.

“Has he always been like that? I mean, looking like someone who’s eaten unripe lemons?” Lúcio looked at Genji.

“I think that’s just his standard resting bitch face, nothing you can do about it. But…”

“Ah-ha, not so fast, cyberboy”. Hana wiggled her index in front of Geni and proceeded with her presentation. The next picture was Hanzo again, brow furrowed as he read alone in the kitchen. Another shot, Hanzo at the training ground, deadly serious with Stormbow in hand. “You’re not completely wrong, he doesn’t look happy. Can’t say I blame him, he’s been quite an asshole and spent the last decade punching himself in the balls for it”.

“Can we please not discuss this any further? We’re fine, I don’t hate him for what he did to me, he’s my brother and I want him to forgive himself and find some…”

“… peace, right?” Lena interrupted him in a sweet voice, and Genji nodded.

“Right. But I’d like to finish a sentence, for a change”.

“You’re on the right path, dude. Wait and you’ll see”. Lúcio smiled at him, and with a wink asked Hana to go on.

“I have more, actually”, she said, shuffling quickly through a long series of pictures of Hanzo with the same serious face. She bit her lip to stop a grin and went on, ready for her  _ coup de théâtre. _

One more picture, Ana and Reinhardt sprawled on a couch, laughing at something McCree – leaning to the armrest – was saying. And in the background, Hanzo was  _ smiling _ . A small thing, almost hidden in his beard, but clearly a smile. The resolution was too low to make out his eyes, but the shining triangles betrayed his expression.

“I don’t get it”, Genji deadpanned.

“Athena, let’s go on. Agent Shimada Jr. needs some more didactic material”. 

More photos. Hana was proud of herself; it had taken her some time to figure out what was going on, but in the end it had been crystal clear; no one had marveled at her taking her usual bunch of pictures of her comrades, and no one had realized what her new favorite subject was.

McCree at the shooting range, Peacekeeper in his fist, hat low on his brow. Hanzo a couple of stalls behind him, eyes glimmering, lips upturned in a smirk. Again, Hanzo hiding his smile in his cup of tea, sitting at the breakfast table two seats from McCree. 

“Oh no”. Genji moaned.

Hanzo laughing behind the fall of his hair at McCree being absolutely thrashed by Zarya at Mortal Kombat. Hanzo staring longingly at the cowboy in a group shot, unaware of Hana searching for a confirmation. The two of them sitting side by side, McCree sporting his signature killer smile and Hanzo flushed.

“Oh no, no I don’t like where this thing is going”. Genji held out his hands and grabbed the table. “I’m not going to get involved, this is ridiculous and I can’t believe I had to set my alarm clock at such an absurd time to listen to this nonsense”. He pushed the stool back and stood up, turning his back to the trio. “Genji out”.

“… damn, G, you sure sound a lot like your brother”. Lúcio sounded offended, and Hana beamed with pride at how convincing his pantomime was. 

Genji stopped by the door and turned on his heels.

“Now wait, you take that back immediately!”

“All common sense and adult warnings… what’s wrong with you? You used to be fun!”

“I  _ am _ fun! I mean, look at me, I’m half robot and I glow green and I can summon a  _ dragon _ ! That’s the very definition of fun!” and he gestured towards his own body, all metal joints and bright LEDs.

Hana sat on the table and shrugged.

“Meh. If you say so…”

“What… No, I’m…”

“You were invited to sit with the Cool Guys, but we were probably mistaken”, said Lena with an overdramatic sigh. “Maybe next time we should ask someone else. Like  Torbjörn ”.

Genji’s shoulders slumped and he muttered something in Japanese, but in the end he walked his way back to the stool.

“You’re a bunch of misfits, a wicked, cruel, smart bunch of misfits. Alright, I’m here and listening”.

Hana grinned and let her feet dangle from the table.

“I knew you were our best ally. So, we’ve been discussing this for months now, and have come to the conclusion that your brother has a crush on McCree”.

“Look at him, isn’t he cute? All shy and blushing”. Lena shook her head and smiled dreamily.

“Hanzo having a crush on McCree? That’s nonsense! He’s… well…”

Genji leaned closer, and the light from the screen reflected in his eyes and on the metal plate on his jaw. 

“… fuck”.

“Genji, this sounds blunt, rude and everything, but do you think it’s possible?”

The cyborg rubbed his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in some kind of mohawk, and rocked back in his seat.

“For what I know, and being Hanzo very discreet about his private life it’s not much, he dated some people back when we were kids. But he also never cleared his cache, so… yeah, let’s say it’s  _ definitely _ possible. Jesse’s pretty much his kind of guy”.

“I knew it! I love being right!” Hana clapped her hands while Lena and Lúcio cheered loudly.

“But whatever, guys, Hanzo is little more than a recluse, he’ll never act on his crush, it’s pointless. And we don’t know if McCree is interested in him”.

“Geez, Genji, McCree is all ‘honey’ and ‘darlin’’ and shit, he’s smitten!”

“No, Lúcio, he’s just McCree being McCree, we don’t have proofs”.

“We do!”, said Lena, and despite the bright look on her face, her voice was deep with affection. “Look at him – Hana, that one by the library”.

Hana was happy to oblige, showing another picture of Hanzo going through a shelf of books. This time McCree was in the background, and his smile as he looked at Hanzo was something different from his usual brash grin. Hana was particularly proud of that shot: the golden light of the sunset made McCree look melancholic, but there was a sweetness in his eyes that she’d never seen before. Oh, sure, he was a cheery and outgoing person, and yet it was a mask – they all wore one, and McCree’s was charming and bold. Seeing him so vulnerable was new and scary, but she liked him even more after discovering such a side of his character.

“There are more if you wish, but I don’t think they’re necessary”. Lena stared at Genji, suddenly serious. “We’ve both known Jesse for almost ten years now, and I know what you’re seeing. Can you deny it?”

Genji was silent; had he been wearing his faceplate it would have been impossible to tell if he was human or just another omnic, but here he was, staring at the pictures on the screen with wide eyes.

“Shit”.

No one spoke for a while, and Hana didn’t dare to interrupt the wordless exchange taking place between Lena and Genji. Lúcio, tapping on the armrest with his eyes to the screen, seemed to share her disposition.

“What do you want me to do, then? Because the more I think about it, the less I see how  _ this _ ”, Genji tilted his head to the picture of McCree looking at Hanzo as if he was the most precious thing on Earth, “could need my – our – intervention”.

“So you agree, they’re pining hard for each other”, said Hana, relieved.

“Ok, maybe you’ve got a point. But what do you expect? I can’t just walk up to my brother and say ‘hey,  _ anija _ , why don’t you take McCree on a date?’, he’d have all the rights to try and kill me again. That’s what  _ I _ ’d do!”

“Can’t you be more subtle? Holy shit, you were in Blackwatch, you must know something of secrecy and deceit!”

“Lúcio, man, this is… this is different. We’re talking about two grown ass men who wouldn’t appreciate some kids meddling with their lives. It’s awkward, and not funny at all”.

“Do you think we’re doing this  _ for fun _ ?” It was a rare occurrence, but when Lena sounded so upset it was devastating. Hana felt (almost) bad for Genji as the other girl’s big eyes darted to his face. “Seriously?”

He blinked, and when he replied his voice was gentler.

“I just don’t understand, why are you doing this? Because they’d make a cute couple? For gossip? Lena, I know there’s more, but I can’t see it. Help me, maybe?”

Hana wanted to add something, but Lúcio signaled her to wait, and she had to admit he was probably right. Lena and Genji had a significant slice of their past to share, and now it was not her time to speak up.

“Remember what Jesse was like before the fall, Genji? You’ve always been close – you’re his friend, one of the few he’s left from the old days”. Lena curled on her chair and smiled sadly at the bearded man on the screen. “He’s always been like this, brash and loud, but there were times when he’d felt safe enough to be himself. Not the cowboy, nor the vigilante – just Jesse, with his tales of the desert and the loneliness he’d suffered for years. Overwatch was home, for him, and that home was yanked from beneath him seven years ago. He doesn’t speak of it, but I know how he felt. Betrayed, alone, lost… and his old armor, the badass one, returned, thicker than ever”. She sighed and turned back to Genji. “Can’t you see how rare that look on his face is? I feared I’d never see it again, but here he is, smiling at your brother as if he hung the moon when he thinks no one’s looking”.

Genji bore her stare; he and Hanzo had the same eyes, and now that he was so serious the resemblance between the two was striking.

“And then there’s your brother. He’s wearing a different kind of armor, but everyone who has eyes can see how broken and alone he is, how much he tries to put a barrier against the whole world. Sometimes I think he hated us all, but…”

“No”, he interrupted her, lowering his shoulders. His warm tone was full of affection. “There’s just one person Hanzo hates, and that’s himself. You’re right, he pushes people away because he’s sure he doesn’t deserve their company”.

“Bullshit. Not what you’re saying, G, you’re right as fuck. We like him, we really do, but he doesn’t let us close”, said Lúcio, a bit subdued.

“That’s how he is, this weird, freaky mixture of annoying confidence about being the best in what he does, and utter inability to accept that people may want to be friends with him”. Genji sighed and took his head in his hands. “Sometimes I wish he’d accept Zenyatta offering of support, but he’s too stubborn for that”.

“He talked to me. A bit, at least”. Hana was hesitant, and having three pairs of eyes fixed on her didn’t help. Well, whatever, she was used to that kind of attention, it didn’t scare her. “He’s a huge nerd and I caught him checking on my videogames. I asked him if he wanted to play sometimes, and he said yes, and we spent an afternoon drinking tea and kicking asses in Metal Gear Solid. I did the ass-kicking, he did the drinking, actually, but he can be pretty sweet”.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” said Lúcio, eyes wide and hands in the air.

“How do you think I decided we needed to help those two? I like Hanzo, and I wish he was happier”, she replied simply. Genji looked down, but not before Hana could see a sweet smile stretch his lips.

“The point is”, Lena continued, “the last time I saw two men denying what they felt for each other, holding back their feelings and refusing to find a glimmer of beauty in the middle of a global war, Overwatch literally blew up. I won’t say it was all because Jack and Gabe were too proud to admit they cared for each other, but they bottled up everything for years, and in the end it exploded in their faces. I only wish…” Her voice died in a whisper, and Hana felt the prickle of tears behind her lids. “I wish everyone could be happy. I want to do my part, a small one if it has to be, but… but if we can do anything to bring McCree and Hanzo together and make their future a bit brighter than their past, I’m all for it. What about you?”

Her eyes, usually so warm and soft, sparkled like steel as she looked intently at Genji, and Hana remembered. They were two of her favourite people, good humored and brave and always ready to uplift everyone’s mood even in the darkest of times, but they were so much more – they’d survived countless battles and seen friends die. And yet here they were, with them, for a project that sounded less silly with every passing moment.

Genji stood up, and for a terrible moment Hana feared he was going to leave for good. Then his shoulders started to shake, and his eyes shone with the same laughter that bubbled up his throat.

“This is madness and it makes perfectly sense. Oh, Lena, you got me, alright? Right in the feels. Are we going to try and make my snotty brother and the obnoxious cowboy a thing? I’m in. Just… let’s keep it confidential, ok?”

“You’re the best!” Lúcio jumped from his chair and hopped to Genji, squeezing him in a cheerful embrace that the cyborg reciprocated, still laughing.

“I thought  _ I _ was the best!” moaned Lena, pouting in faked outrage.

Hana simply smiled. It could work – it  _ had _ to work, it was her idea after all. She looked up to the ceiling and blinked.

“Heard that, Athena? Confidential”.

“I can see no reason to interfere, so I won’t. May I suggest caution and care? Agent Shimada – Hanzo Shimada – is subject to anxiety, and agent McCree is…”

“Alright, alright, don’t worry, we’ll be smooth as silk”. Lúcio patted Genji’s shoulder and grinned to his friends. “Let’s take it easy and try to get them to talk. I have some ideas already”.

“Should I be worried?” Genji squinted and looked at him in friendly suspicion.

“Nah, not at all. But I think Fareeha birthday is coming in a few days, and I sure as hell won’t waste such a chance. Music always helps, after all!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is a social disaster, Genji has some sub-par ideas, and seriously, those two grown ass men really need some help to get their shit together. 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudos and general feedback, it's what makes this attention-starved author going <3
> 
> (Oh, as usual you can find me on tumblr @acupofgeek)

Hanzo Shimada was not one for parties. That was Genji’s realm, one he’d never been interested into – or that was what he had managed to convince himself of. He’d been eighteen too once, after all, and he still remembered how much he’d envied his younger brother’s easy going way of life. He’d later figured out that was not what his clan had wanted from him, but the sting of longing – for being young, careless and free – had always been there.

This definitely didn’t mean he was the kind of person who would enjoy dimly lit rooms, booming music and a bunch of people rutting against each other. Hanzo Shimada was a classy man, after all.

And a weak one.

“Please!”

“I said no”.  
  
“And I said _please_!”

Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned, careful not to look at the source of the spry, excited voice in front of him. He was exhausted after a two weeks mission out in Egypt, his head throbbed, his skin itched after a spectacular sunburn and his coffee was not strong enough to keep him going. Not to mention the fifteen stitches on his side, where a bullet had scratched his skin and muscle, missing his internal organs by inches.

“I’m in no mood for a birthday party, Hana”.

“But everyone’s gonna be there, and the pie is spectacular! Chocolate and strawberries, almost as tall as me!”

“… that’s not very tall”, he couldn’t hold back, a smirk playing on his lips.

Hana poked him in the shoulder, and eventually Hanzo opened his eyes.

Bad move: no way he could resist the hopeful look on that young face, all shining eyes and bright smile.

“You’re not that taller than me. And there’s a betting pool – if you come, Genji owes me twenty bucks”.

“Oh, really?” He flopped against the couch and placed his half-empty coffee mug on the side table. “Why do you all care so much?”

Something flickered in Hana’s gaze and she shrugged, looking away.

“Fareeha wants her whole family at the party, and not coming would be mean. I thought you liked her”.

“Of course I do, who doesn’t like Fareeha? But… but why _me_?”

The sweet smell of bubblegum floated around them for a moment, then the bubble popped and Hana chewed with an attentive look on her face.

“’Cause you’re part of the team, and team means family”. She perched on the armrest and tilted her head to the side. “What about taking your head out of your ass and accepting that people may want to be friends with you? And no, enough with your ‘I don’t deserve it’ shit”. A flick of her hand, and she threw her long hair back. “Unless you want Genji to be right, that’s it, in which case you’re welcome to stay in your quarters and sulk”.

Hanzo crossed his arms to his chest, not without a small flinch as the stitches stretched and stung, and sighed.

There were good people in Overwatch. People like Lúcio and Hana, who’d taken to follow him around trying to get him involved in every possible group activity; people like Fareeha, with her unfaltering sense of justice, or Lena, the personification of sunshine itself. There was Reinhardt and his booming laughter, and the quiet enthusiasm of Winston. McCree, with a smile that chased the shadows of his past away and the crinkle at the corners of his eyes everytime he laughed.

Hanzo swallowed and looked down to his hands, clasped in his lap.

McCree. That was dangerous territory.

And then there was him. Broken and wrong and trying too hard to be a decent human being.

Why would such a band want to have anything to do with him?

“Hanzo, you’re doing it again”.

“What?”

“Overthinking. It’s just a birthday party, after all, you deserve some fun too”. She slid off the couch and stretched. “And I deserve those twenty bucks from your brother. Will you do that for me?”

She batted her lashes and Hanzo groaned. The forgotten heir of the Shimada clan, an assassin, probably the most skilled archer in the world (his ego swelled a bit at the thought), falling prey to a teen girl.

“Ok, I’ll come. But don’t expect me to be the soul of the party, because I still have a dignity”.

“Dignity is overrated, and your rock!” She bounced on her feet, looking more than ever like an overexcited bunny, and bolted away, her phone in hand.

Hanzo let out another sigh and took his coffee back.

_I’m so going to regret this._

 

 

 

Hanzo Shimada was not one for _birthday_ parties. Still, as he sat with his belly unpleasantly full after too many rounds of pizza to be counted, he looked up to the birthday girl and felt that attending the party hadn’t been too much of a mistake.

Fareeha was beaming, her short black bob ruffled and Satya smiling politely at her side – impeccable as usual, but for the glimmer in her eyes and the red flush on her face.

“You too! I can’t believe it, Hana was right, you came!” Fareeha had squeezed him in a bone-crushing hug and shaken him a bit. “I’m so happy you’re here, I feared you’d be the only one missing, it would have been a shame!”

“Yes, er – happy birthday?” had been all he’d managed to blurt out, but no one seemed to care.

Now, sitting at the bottom of the table, he felt kind of isolated from the cheering crowd. Someone screamed “Pie!” – and Genji let out a very believable mocking of Reaper’s signature threatening voice that made everyone (but Jack) laugh out loud – and Hanzo had to admit that Hana had been right. The pie was impressive, but right now he didn’t really care.

He’d been glad to join the team for the celebrations, but loneliness was starting to creep upon him. He felt out of place again, too old and damaged for such things, and being among so many people was tiring him.

Maybe he could slip away and no one would notice. He was starting to take a look around the mess room, adorned with blue and golden balloons and a huge ‘Happy birthday’ sign hanging on the wall, and caught Lena staring at him.

_So much for my escape plan._

He sighed and tried to smile back to her, but Lena wasn’t looking anymore.

His wound ached, the noise was killing him – did he really think coming was not a bad idea just minutes before?

With a groan, Hanzo leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. He thought he could fit in, even if for a second. He was a fool.

“Hey there, partner”.

The low, rough voice startled him. Hanzo jumped on his seat and the chair hit the floor with a loud thud.

McCree had left his hat and serape in favor of a simple red t-shirt that stretched on his chest and made his shoulders look even broader. With a shot of shame, Hanzo felt his face go annoyingly warm, and he had to struggle to compose his mouth into something similar to a polite smile.

“McCree”, he acknowledged curtly, clenching his fists on his legs. McCree, holding a plate with a slice of cake as big as his hand (and Hanzo tried not to think about how big and strong those hands were), ignored the hint of cold in the reply and kicked back the chair next to Hanzo, sitting at his side.

“Got you this”, and he slid the plate on the table. “Lena said you were stuck to your chair and I didn’t want you to miss the pie”. He smirked and Hanzo forced himself to keep his eyes on the pile of chocolate and strawberries in front of him.

 _I have to say something if I don’t want to come out as rude. He’s just being kind – he’s just being_ himself _, McCree is who he is and he doesn’t deserve to fall victim to my bad mood._

He gulped and nodded, relaxing his hands and placing them on the table.

“That was… considerate of you. You have my thanks”.

A sharp slap landed on his back, and if the strength of the impact hadn’t been enough to knock the air off his chest, the subsequent rough rubbing made him lose his ability to breathe.

“For what? ‘tis nothing, darlin’, really”. McCree let his hand fall from Hanzo’s back and rocked back in his chair, stretching his arms in the air. Hanzo couldn’t miss the snap oh his shoulders, or the veins running up his right forearm.

Heat crawled up his neck, and Hanzo wondered if it was visible to everyone in the room. In order to fight the growing embarrassment, he quickly stuffed his mouth with too much pie, and so long to dignity and good manners. The pie was good, but for all he cared at the moment he might as well be eating sawdust.

McCree chuckled at his side, and Hanzo felt his throat clench – not entirely out of the excessive amount of food he was trying to swallow.

“I figured already you had a sweet tooth. Glad you’re enjoying my tease, then”.

The grin that ruffled his beard was the last straw; how could that ridiculous cowboy be so uncomfortably charming? Hanzo tried to breathe and only managed to choke some more, producing a small wheezing sound from his nose.

“Woah there, partner, you fine?” he asked, and some of his jolly good humor was gone from his tone. He patted Hanzo between his shoulder blades, leaning closer with a frown.

Eventually, Hanzo threw his arm on the table and fumbled to get the glass of beer just out of his reach. McCree helped him, or at least he tried, because his attempts ended in him brushing Hanzo’s fingers with his own. The level of distress spiked for a second, then Hanzo chugged down half of his drink and set his respiratory tract free from chocolate.

“Hey, Han, ‘s everything alright?” McCree’s voice was low and gentle, too much for Hanzo to bear. He nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, secretly blessing the small accident for giving him an acceptable excuse for being beet red.

“Y-Yes. Sorry, I’m… yes. Thank you”, he croaked.

“For a moment I feared I had to call Angela. Trust me, once I saw how an emergency tracheotomy is performed and I’m not keen to experience the show again”. He was still patting Hanzo’s shoulder even if there was no need to do so anymore, and this was not making things easier.

To mask his confusion, Hanzo drained the last of his beer and huffed.

_Don’t get your hopes up, Shimada. You’re acting like a teen at his first crush, not as the adult you are._

He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again he felt the reassuring tension of his usual serious expression spread on his face.

“It was not my intention to ruin your party mood, McCree”. He carefully took another bit of cake and chewed it slowly.

“Who? _You_? No way, honey!”, and the sparkle in his dark eyes made Hanzo’s stomach flutter. Why was he doing that? There surely was a mistake – or worse, McCree pitied him for not being sociable enough to enjoy the company.

For a while Hanzo devoted his attention to the cake, while McCree whistled softly, still not leaving his side. After the last strawberry was gone from the plate, Hanzo realized how tension was surging up his chest again, and fumbled for something to say.

“You don’t have to sit here with me, you know?”

“Oh?” McCree turned to him, eyebrows high on his forehead and a gentle blink of his eyes. “Why yer sayin’ that, darlin’? I just wanted to…”

“There are people who would appreciate your company more than I do”, and here it was, the hard, sour note in his voice. It comforted him, but also churned something in his chest. It was awful. “I don’t need to be commiserated”.

The light on McCree’s face went out. The familiar, charming smile dropped from his lips and he lowered his eyes.

“I see. Sorry if I bothered you”. He pushed his chair back and stood up, grim. Hanzo cursed in silence what part of his brain suggested him such a cruel strategy, but when McCree turned sharply to him – eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching on his jaw – he only wanted to disappear into the floor.

“Overwatch’s a team, Hanzo. Try not to forget that, ok?” No trace of flirty remarks in his tone, just the cold, brutal truth. Hanzo had no time to reply because McCree sunk his hands in the pockets of his jeans and strolled away, kicking the empty air.

_Good job. Now have fun living with those hurt puppy eyes stuck in your memory._

Hanzo moaned and wrapped his fingers around the now empty glass. If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend there weren't a dozen people around him, all ready to take the party to the next level, or that he hadn’t hurt McCree by being his usual problematic, socially awkward self.

_I rejected him. He wanted to be friendly and I dumped him. What’s wrong with me?_

Unfortunately, he had a very simple answer to that question. Written in the way he couldn’t but look up at McCree walking to the rest of their comrades, in the long legs and strong thighs and the way that unruly dark hair called him and invited him to run his fingers through it.

The truth was flashing in bold bright letters in front of his face, and he was firmly inclined to ignore it. What if he didn’t? He should have had to admit he liked someone – a kind man who tried to be a good friend and who received only a snarl as a result.

He shook his head and looked into the foamy depths of his glass.

Whatever, he wouldn’t stand a chance in any case. With a loud sigh he checked to make sure McCree was busy making someone else’s life brighter and stood up, turning his back to the crowd.

Coming had been a huge mistake, he was not made for this kind of gatherings, and no one would have missed him.

Still, every step he took toward the door was heavier and more labored. He’d almost reached the handle when a cold, strong grip closed on his wrist.

“Brother, where are you going?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, and the soft, wounded side of his soul McCree had managed to bare hardened.

“Away”.

“I don’t think so, Lúcio ’s about to start the DJ set and you promised Hana you’d be at the party!”

Even without looking, Hanzo could feel Genji’s inquiring gaze upon him. Right what he needed to make his night even worse: his younger brother lecturing him.

“Let me go. No one will even notice I’m gone”.

“Well, _I_ would. And you’re not a tiny thing that people could easily miss, you know?”

Hanzo snatched his arm from Genji’s grip and shot him an icy stare.

“I’m tired”.

“No, this is a blatant lie. You’re shrinking away from a situation you’re not in complete control of. This makes you a… what’s the word?” Genji rubbed the metal plate on his chin with his thumb, then snapped his fingers and pointed at Hanzo. “A _coward_. That’s it!”

Fire ignited under Hanzo’s skin again, and for a completely different reason.

“How dare you…”

“Hanzo, come on!” Genji interrupted him before he could let his indignation run free. “You’ve been in Overwatch for months now, time to be the adult you are and find some team spirit”. He threw an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders, who tried very hard not to shiver at the contact with metal and gears.

_My fault._

“… more spirits will be involved, I have to inform you, and it’s been ages since I drank you under the table. I bet i can still do it”.

“I don’t want to…”

“Please. Do it for me, then? A sign of your good intentions?” Genji squeezed his shoulder and leaned closer. “It won’t hurt to unplug from your concerns for a couple of hours”.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you all are conspiring to make me socialize”. He tried to sound stern, but probably his expression betrayed him, because Genji blinked and smiled.

“What if we are? Give it a try, Hanzo, just until midnight. Then, as the pretty Cinderella you are, you can go back to your hermitage”.

Hanzo repressed another sigh and shot a quick look at the crowded room.

McCree, now suffering Hana’s attention and the flash from her phone’s camera, was smiling as per usual, but Hanzo felt there was something wrong in his eyes.

_Of course, you’ve been cruel and unpleasant. It’s affecting him._

“I can’t see why it should”, he groaned, and Genji tilted his head.

“What?”

“Nothing, I was just… thinking out loud”. He shrugged his brother’s arm off his shoulders and crossed his arms, careful not to meet anyone’s eyes. “Fine, anyway. I’ll stay here and wait until midnight”.

When Genji burst into laughter and ruffled his hair – something that made him tense immediately and growl – Hanzo closed his eyes.

_I’m in the wrong place._

 

 

 

Because Hanzo Shimada was _definitely_ not one for parties that involved loud music and blazing lights and ridiculous amounts of alcohol.

When he woke up in his room the next day, regret hit him square in the face, together with his trusty companions: a thundering headache and scraps of unwanted memories. He squeezed his eyes shut at the painful ray of sunshine crawling upon his face from the window, but to no avail; he grabbed his pillow and squished it over his face.

 _I’m too old for this_ , he thought, nuzzling the pillow and praying the dead thing he felt in his mouth was just his tongue.

Too old for all those cocktails Genji had insisted in pouring him – the sweet taste of fruit masking the flame of vodka underneath – and too old for the roar of the amplifiers that still made his ears buzz. He should have followed his senior’s example: Ana, Jack, Reinhardt and Torbjörn, together with Winston, had retired shortly after Lúcio had turned his DJ set on, wishing everyone else a good night as if they all were kids left at a friend’s house by their parents.

But no, he had to persist. Sitting in his corner, pestered every now and then by his brother’s or Hana’s attentions, he’d tried to drink his troubles away.

Wrapping himself in the blankets, Hanzo rolled on his side and cursed his bad judgment.

At some point, he remembered McCree trying again to talk to him, but it had been quite late in the night and his speech skills already dulled by his drinks. He was quite sure he didn’t say or do anything inappropriate, and yet something seemed out of place.

In the mist of his brain, a ray of light brightened his confusion – a smile, warm and sweet despite their last conversation. McCree rolling a glass full of an amber liquid, the clinking of ice cubes, the scents of tobacco and bourbon floating around him like a halo. Hanzo grunted and threw the pillow away, covering his face with his hands.

He knew how it went. The cowboy’s cheery remarks clashed against the walls of his stubborn denial, and the alcohol he’d been ingesting could have helped some more. Hanzo remembered his pathetic struggle to keep up with the conversation and, most of all, how his face had felt increasingly warm with every passing second. Something he wished he could blame on his drunkenness alone.

With another moan, he rubbed his eyes with his fists, and the pulsation in his head subsided a bit, only to come back in all its glory when shreds of words floated to the surface of his memory.

_“Havin’ fun, darlin’?”_

_“You shouldn’t call me that. I have a name, you know?”_

_“Oh, sure I do. Hanzo – Haaaan-zo”, and McCree slung one arm on the back of Hanzo’s chair. “I like it”._

“No, you don’t”.  
_  
_ _“Hey, I’m not the one not liking things. Or_ people”. He took a sip from his glass, and Hanzo felt the urge to turn around and look at him.

That face was haunting his dreams enough already, but the look in his eyes in that moment burst into his brain, leaving him short of breath even hours later. Eyes the same color as the bourbon he’d been drinking, an easy smile that shone in his ruffled beard, dimples on his cheeks – Hanzo sighed in the silence of his room as his mind presented him with vivid pictures of the red fabric stretched on his chest and the way his jeans embraced those long, thick legs.

_“I’m simply a discreet man who likes to keep to himself”, and how foolish his own words sounded to his ears._

_“This implies you do like some… thing. Some_ thing _, right”. Hanzo kind of wished the sparkle in his eyes was just a trick of his mind, but he felt delusional in thinking so. Emotions rolled and shifted in McCree’s gaze – insecure at first, with a hint of anger, and then as bright as the sun at Hanzo’s replies._

_“Of course I like… whatever”. There was still some of his cocktail at the bottom of his glass, with nothing but the color of the fruit to disguise its strength. He drained it, and something in his stomach squirmed as he almost missed the table in putting the glass down._

_“See, I wanted to – uh – apologize. Sounds weird, but… y’know, bear with me”. McCree tapped his flesh fingers on Hanzo’s chair and ran his prosthetic in his hair. He wasn’t looking at him, and for a second Hanzo thought he saw his face darken in a blush. It had to be a play of the lights, though. “I’m loud. And mouthy. And I can’t get hints – I mean, you clearly wanted to be by yourself earlier, and I insisted in annoying you. So yeah, ‘m sorry, I suppose”._

_Hanzo blinked several times. McCree’s shape was slightly blurred in front of his eyes, and he suddenly felt the need to run away again._

_“Why would you…”_

‘… apologize, when I’m the one who behaved like a crude jerk and ignored your kind demeanor? Are you trying to make me feel guilty?’

_“’Cause I know I can be a nuisance, and you’ve been through enough shit without me pesterin’ you. That’s it”. McCree straightened up; the vulnerable look on his face was gone. “Have a nice evening, Shimada”._

His bed was unpleasantly warm, the covers rough on his sweaty skin. Hanzo grunted and sat up, the hangover heavy on his skull; hadn’t it relented in an hour or so he’d have to let go of pride and ask Angela for a pill or something.

_If only there were pills to correct memories…_

He knew how things had been after that brief exchange. How he’d tried to wrestle some nicer words from his throat, and only ended up looking at McCree leaving him, a bit unsteady on his feet but as cheerful as ever; how he’d found his glass full again – damn Genji and his stealth skills – and kept on drinking.

A good chain of awful decisions that resulted in this even more awful morning.

Still, he couldn’t spend his day in the shadows to avoid confrontation with his actions. It was a matter of honor, and in part – a big part – he was not going to give Genji the satisfaction of saying ‘I drank my elder brother under the table’. He threw the blankets away and thanked his past self for the sweatpants he was wearing: he’d been wasted, but not so much to drop dead on the bed without taking his clothes off.

The floor tilted a bit under his bare feet, and the upright position only worsened his headache, but after a long, cold shower his body resolved to cooperate a little bit. He felt almost himself again when he proceeded to brush his teeth, but the man looking back at him from the mirror was somewhat wrong. Bloodshot eyes, hair sticking to his cheek, his usually well-trimmed beard all ruffled.

_That’s so McCree._

The name and its bearer shot through his memory. Hanzo squirmed and his jaws clenched on the toothbrush, his face twisting into a furious grimace.

Wrong. It was _wrong_ – this confusion, this obsession slithering through his soul and making him think of the cowboy more often than it was acceptable.

Hanzo spat in the sink and ran his palm on his mouth. When he looked back in the mirror, it was easier to recognize himself – hard eyes and suspicious stare, even if his face was pale and marked by deep dark circles.

_I’m just paying last night’s excessive drinking. After some coffee, everything’s going to be alright._

And he almost believed his own words as he walked the quiet corridors of the base to the dining room. Even more so when he reached the coffeemaker, thanking his good luck for the absence of people in sight.

Sitting alone in the silent room and sipping bitter, strong coffee contributed to clearing his mind. He didn’t pay much attention to the red mug he was using – the first clean one he’d found by the sink – but when he put it on the table his eyes lingered a second too long on the horseshoe and stars printed on it.

‘Space cowboy’, written in old-style black letters, flashed at him; he almost choked on his coffee and pushed the mug away, looking at it as if it was something deeply offensive.

His breath hitched in his throat, and what little good caffeine had done him vanished under a brand new wave of shock. Of all the mugs he could have picked why _this one_?

The hiss from the door caught him off guard; Hanzo jumped on his chair, and he didn’t even need to turn around to recognize a familiar, ominous green glow by the threshold.

“Good morning!” Genji, in a worn out black hoodie, greeted him in a singsong voice, and Hanzo’s brain winced with suffering. “I’m impressed, I didn’t expect to find you up and about this early. Oh my, you look like shit”.

“You’re not making things better”, he grunted, extending his hand to grab the mug before his brother could notice it. Unfortunately, Genji’s reflexes were faster (but only because of the hangover, _of course_ ): his cyber hand darted across the table and slid the mug from Hanzo’s grip, leaving the elder Shimada splayed on the smooth metal surface with his face on fire.

“Look look – I’d tell you to be a bit less obvious in your interests, but after last night…”

“Give that back!” Hanzo snarled and snatched his coffee from Genji’s hand, spilling it everywhere. “Fine. Look what you’ve done…”

“Me? Brother, we should talk about what _you_ did!”

Hanzo turned his back to Genji; six months since their reconciliation and he still had a hard time looking at his brother’s new appearance, his scarred face covered by the shiny metal mask.

“I got drunk, I know”, he muttered, taking a towel from the counter and wiping the bottom of the mug. “But being a serious, responsible adult I also know that I didn’t show any unseemly behavior”. He got back to the table and quickly cleaned the dark splatters on the reflective surface. His face looked redder than ever, and he quickly stood up. “I’m not _you_ , after all…”

Genji jumped on the nearest chair and stared at him – or that’s what Hanzo thought; it was hard to tell, with only a glowing green slit where his eyes were – with his head tilted on the side. Just like a nosy little sparrow.

“It wouldn’t hurt being a little more like me, once in a while. You’d spare yourself some trouble, and us all a lot of embarrassment”.

Hanzo stopped mid-wipe and looked at his brother.

“What do you mean?”

Genji shrugged and Hanzo could feel him grin behind his mask.

“You _were_ piss drunk, after all…”

“What happened?”, and there was anxiety in his voice. His old, unwanted companion.

“Not so self-confident now, are you? Well, there’s something I want to show you”. He fished his cell phone from the pocket of his hoodie and gestured Hanzo to come closer.

As if it was an easy task. Hanzo felt his heart rumble in his throat, its thundering in his skull, and his hands were suddenly sweaty. In all honesty, he couldn’t say he remembered everything about the night before, and the fact that Genji was so willing to give him undesired details was enough to shake him to the core. Had he lost control? Compromised himself somehow?

“Come on, no one’s seen this. _Yet_ ”, and Hanzo was sure Genji winked at him, even without seeing his eyes.

“Delete it. Whatever it is”. Good thing his voice sounded as cold and angry as he’d intended; he twisted the towel in his hands and bared his teeth. “Now”

“Not before you’ve seen it. It’s just a two minutes thing”, and he patted the chair at his side. Hanzo gulped and carefully ignored the invitation, but his gaze was drawn by the bright screen in his brother’s hand.

“Look at this”, and Genji pressed the play button.

The room was noisy and nearly dark, but for some colorful neons on the walls. And Hanzo recognized it immediately: it was where they’d been partying just hours before. A bead of sweat formed on his brow.

“ _Aaaand here’s your local team of party animals!”_ Genji’s voice screamed over the thumping of music; the camera focused for a moment on Genji himself, with Lena and Hana peeking from behind his shoulders. Hana waved and blew a kiss. _“Lúcio’s too busy being cool, so he’ll just guest star in this video”_ , and he framed Lúcio, headphones slung on his neck, too caught in the rhythm to pay Genji much attention.

 _“We’re here for – for a public service!”_ Lena, her cheeks bright red and her eyes shining, pointed at the table. _“We’re recording memories for those too wasted to remember anything. Like him!”_

The camera moved to the slumped shape of McCree on the table, his metal fingers wrapped around a bottle and his hat abandoned at his side.

 _“Hey, sparrow! Your brother looks like the only sober person here”._ The phone bobbed and for a moment caught a glimpse of Hana’s smiling face, her slender finger pointing somewhere in the distance.

Hanzo bit his lip in recognizing himself. Sitting alone, hands on his thighs, eyes lowered in his lap – the very picture of composure. In the eyes of anyone who didn’t know him well enough to tell the truth.

_“Who, Hanzo? He’s drunk as fuck!”_

Genji’s laughter in the video was matched by the same, if softer, in the present.

_“No way! He looks so cold and calm and…”_

_“Nope, Lena, he’s gone. And I…”_

A small crowd cheered in the background, and the two girls bounced away. Genji moved the phone to the dancing group behind him, and then went back to his brother.

Hanzo pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed.

“I don’t think I want to see my public humiliation – of which I blessedly had no memory, until you…”

“Wait, it gets better. Here, this is relevant”.

Genji’s LEDs in the darkness of the video flickered on the hand he placed on Hanzo’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

_“Anija, are you alright?”_

_“I am. Thank you for your concern”_ , and Hanzo suppressed a moan; his voice sounded thick and confused, in stark contrast with his stern appearance.

_“Time for some brotherly bonding, right? Like – have you been up to something lately?”_

_“I came back from Egypt yesterday and you know it”._

_“Holy shit, you’re boring! Work, work, work… I was thinking more about people. As in – anyone who caught your eye?”_

_“Shut up”._

“Oh no”.

“This is the best part, brother!”

“Genji, stop this thing immediately”, he grunted, trying to snatch the phone from his brother’s grip and failing miserably.

_“You know, lots of single people here in Overwatch. Well, not that many, probably, but one you could appreciate”._

_“I’m not looking for a relationship, thank you very much. And even if… if I did, I’m old enough to…”_

_“What do you think of McCree? Not right now, ‘cause he’s currently snoring and drooling on the table, but in general…”_

_“Pointless”._

_“Come on, you can trust your little brother!”_ , and the frame wiggled when Genji elbowed Hanzo. _“He’s not bad at all, isn’t he?”_

 _“I… I’m not…”_ and to his horror, Hanzo saw his past self – the same one he’d been praising just minutes before – turn to McCree with a look of pure longing in his eyes.

_“If you like him you can say it to me. No one will know it, I promise! So, tell me, what do you think of our very own cowboy?”_

_“He’s… a very handsome man. Who’s probably not interested in…”_

“Enough!”

Hanzo grabbed his brother’s wrist and gave a sharp twist; the phone fell on the ground on its screen, and soon even the sounds of the recording got lost in the two brother’s quarrel.

“You had no right to… to…”  
“Hanzo! Calm down!” Genji blocked Hanzo’s hand and kicked his chair back. “No one saw it and no one ever will, I…”

“Delete it. Now!”

“Ok, ok, just…”

 _"Do it_!”

A roar, broken by his heavy breaths and shaky voice.

“Alright, I’ll do it – let me…”  
  
“Genji, delete it! If… if anyone sees it…”

_If McCree sees it…_

Hanzo felt his knees go weak and pushed Genji back; looking at him was too much, touching him unbearable.

“Hanzo, look”, and Genji approached him, his voice lower and more serious, the phone in his hand. The tip of his metal finger swiped on the screen and Hanzo, behind the blurred veil of his wild shame, saw the video crumble and disappear. “It’s gone. For real, it’s gone and… and…”

Genji sighed. He dropped the phone on the table and unlocked his faceplate; the same gesture, months before, had revealed him as a shadow from Hanzo’s past.

Heart racing, hands suddenly cold, Hanzo eventually looked up at him. It was easier this way – he knew those eyes, the curve of Genji’s nose and how his cheeks rose when he smiled. He was still his little brother under the coating of metal, scars, and regrets.

“I’m sorry, _anija_. I… I thought it was funny, I didn’t want to make you… hey, hey, look at me, I’m…”

“Ok”, he managed to hiss, hands running through his long hair. “Leave me”.

Genji looked around and, once he saw they were still alone, put a hand on Hanzo’s arm.

“It’s ok. I swear I won’t bring this up again, but listen to me for a moment: if you like McCree, stop pushing him away. He’s a good man, and…”

“… and he deserves better than me. That’s it”.

Another deep, long sigh, and Hanzo wished he was alone again.

“You’ve been alone for too long”, said Genji, as if reading his mind. Hanzo winced and ran a hand on his face. “Forgive me. It was meant as a joke, but I overstepped and… I didn’t want to hurt you”.

“It’s ok. I… I know it, and…”

“Still, McCree’s not some faraway, unreachable entity. He wants to know you better, and being his friend let me tell you, he’s worth your time and consideration. Think on that, brother”.

“Yes, anyway you could stop finishing all your sentences like that – and don’t you dare to disappear in a puff of smoke this time”. His voice sounded still unsteady, but the low chuckle on Genji’s side undid some of his distress. The hand on his arm squeezed him and slapped him hard enough to make him stumble, and this mended something in his broken self.

“What if I make some more coffee? I planned to go to the training ground, but it’s still pretty early…”

Hanzo sat on the nearest chair and huffed softly. Anxiety and shame relented a bit: yes, he’d said something compromising, but no one heard it except for Genji. And he trusted him – he needed to, he wanted to, as a part of his redemption path.

“You drank twice as much as I did, how come you’re not hungover in the least?”

Genji knocked his right side, with a sharp sound of metal on metal.

“Cyberliver. It works like a charm”, and he turned to the coffeemaker. “Anyway, let me reassure you: you did nothing fun last night, so don’t worry too much”.

And he wished he could believe him. But as he looked at his own reflection in the table something leaped in the tight space between his stomach and heart.

 _In vino veritas_. And if truth was to be found in wine, were fruity cocktails the same?

_McCree is a very handsome man indeed. But I can handle this without making a fool of myself. Nothing’s gonna happen and soon I’ll forget all of this._

 

...

 

“It didn’t work”.

Genji, perched on roof looking down on the sea, shook his head. The late afternoon sun glistened on his metal body and made his three companions squint. None of them looked at their best – Hana was pale, Lena’s eyes sported some very suggestive bags and Lúcio kept on yawning.

“What did you do?” he asked, his jaw clicking in place. Genji sighed and sat down, his legs crossed.

“Nothing special, I just… tried to talk to Hanzo about it”, he said. Rubbing his neck didn’t have the expected effect, with all the metal in the way, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Hana sprung to her feet and looked down at him, and no matter if she was some fifteen years younger than him, and a little thing no taller than his chest: Genji felt the urge to retract into his shell like a turtle.

“You did _what_?”

“You heard me, I tried to… well, to tackle the subject. I was subtle tho!”

“Subtle my ass! We said we needed to be tactful and you go straight to his face…” She facepalmed and moaned, rolling her eyes to the sky. “Why. _Why_?”

“I’m sure Genji only wanted to help, right, luv?” Lena’s hand patting his shoulder was gentler than he’d deserved, but he was glad she was on his side. “Tell us more, I’m sure we can work around whatever mess you caused”.

“It’s not an actual mess, I promise, but… ok, I’m sorry, I was blunt and he didn’t take it well. I tried to make a joke of it and it didn’t work”. He hated to admit it, but the pained reaction his brother showed to his approach had left him troubled. A small part of his being – something he was not proud of, something he acknowledged but had learned not to consider too important – grinned in secret pleasure at that petty vengeance, but it was just a feeble voice. Genji knew he was more than his past bitterness, and seeing Hanzo panic in a desperate attempt to hide his emotions hurt.

“I tried to help in the wrong way”, he confessed, subdued. Lena caressed his arm with a sympathetic smile on her face, and Lúcio rubbed his knuckles on his nose.

“Dude, I really thought a party could be useful. I didn’t consider McCree drinking his ass off, or Hanzo being an emotional disaster…”

“Well, so what? We failed our first attempt, but I’m not going to give up”. Hana clenched her fist and slammed it into her palm; the look on her delicate face was so stern and firm it picked Genji from his discouragement – he’d rarely seen so much determination all bottled up into such a small frame. He liked the girl. “We gotta move to plan B, and we have all the way down to Z to try. Any suggestions? Not you, Genji, you’ve already done enough”, and he would have resented the tone – being scolded by a teen? _Him_? – but there was no way he could hold a grudge to such a smile.

“Whatever we decide to do, the most important thing is that those two dorks need to talk to each other”. Lúcio dropped his hand and shook his head. “Which is on its own quite the task – McCree won’t shut his trap, but Hanzo is as responsive as a brick wall”.

“They should spend more time together, but… _oh_!” Lena’s face brightened, and Genji turned to her.

“You look like you have an idea”, he said, grateful his awkward video – it was gone, and he was never going to mention it to anyone, both for Hanzo’s and his own sake – didn’t completely spoil the plan.

“Indeed! And it will just require some good luck and shamelessness”. She stood up, and both Lúcio and Hana suddenly looked completely awake and attentive. “I gotta check out Overwatch’s schedule for next week, but I think it could work!”


	3. Chapter 3

The last shell from his last cartridge fell by his boot with a tinkling sound.  

The shot hit the mark – a sizzling, clean hole in the omnic’s head, sparks and oil dripping from the metal of the B73 Unit – and McCree allowed himself a satisfied smirk. The white cloud floating in front of his face, half caused by his signature cigarillo, half by the cold Russian air, briefly shrouded the steel shape of the omnic who’d tried to blow his head up just seconds before. Its red LEDs flickered for a moment, then went off, and McCree let out a relieved sigh. Peacekeeper was heavy and hot in his hand, and only when he dropped it to his side he realized how tensed his arm had been. A deep drag from his cigarillo and he listened to the environment.

It was quiet; not silent, as Volskaya Industries were always buzzing with activity, but the roar of gunshots and cries from his teammates was gone. The icy waters to his left were calm, almost serene in the darkness speckled with snowflakes. A storm was on its way.

His heart swelled as he thought of the other Overwatch members he’d joined to calm down that residual omnic revolt in the North, a painful mixture of concern and affection tightening his throat.

Lena had driven them there – she and Bastion, nowhere to be seen, and…

He let out a puff of smoke and turned his back to the broken omnic. Hanzo hated him, most likely, or anyway had shown no interest in his company whatsoever. And being McCree a stubborn, thick fool he couldn’t blame him or let go. He could live with his rejection, but he was not going to give up on a friendship level. No sir, if Hanzo had to be part of Overwatch, McCree wanted him to feel welcomed. It was something beyond the desire to touch his hair and feel if it was really as soft as it seemed, or see those pretty lips crack a smile all for him, and a whole lot of other, way more R18 things.

His comm buzzed, and Lena’s voice startled him.

_“Guys, job’s done! Are you all alright? Don’t make aunt Tracer worry!”_

The first reply came in the form of a cheerful series of beeps, and McCree smiled. Bastion enthusiastically signaled his status, but when the sound from the comm switched to a deep, harsh voice, McCree froze. And definitely not from the cold alone.

_“Agent Shimada here. Area cleared”._

_“Good! Hey, cowboy, are you with us?”_

Hanzo was fine, and his heart fluttered in his chest. He took a deep breath and some of the residual tension in his back eased. He brought his fingers to the device clipped to his ear, aiming for the ‘speak’ button, but something moved at the corner of his field of vision.

A red flash – darkness, and then red. Again.

“ _Jesse?”_ Lena’s voice was not as light as it used to be, and McCree ignored her.

The omnic powered up again, even if crooked and dented.

“Fuck!” McCree forgot to answer the call and to raise the now useless Peacekeeper. That damned omnic was aiming his guns at him, and the dreadful, familiar buzz of a plasma cannon being loaded and pointed at him drained his face of all color.

_“Jesse, buddy, say something! Please!”_

_“McCree? Are you online?”_

He wanted to answer, both to erase the concern in Lena’s voice and to bask in the unexpected realization that Hanzo was worrying for him, but his brain reacted fast to the immediate danger. Words and wits turned off, and he crouched as the first blazing red ray cut through the air, missing the tip of his hat by a hair.

No bullets? No problem.

_I’ll be a weapon._

He sprinted, head low and teeth bared, and devoured the space that divided him from the omnic in few long, fast steps. The next shot hissed near his face, burning his ear and beard, and McCree blinked.

All at once the omnic was not a blurred shape anymore, but a clear threat all hard edges and cold violence with a single mind – _kill him_.

More fiery rays darted in his direction, and McCree did the only thing his instinct could suggest him; while Lena still called for him over the comm, he leaped forward and his feet left the ground.

For the shard of time he flew in the air, his hat knocked off by another shot and the frozen wind slashing his face, everything went still. The square head of the omnic, expressionless and yet surprised, the handful of wires sprouting from the hole in its case, the smell of burned hair and tobacco – small details engraved in his memory, removed from his physical sensations.

They came back all at once when his shoulder hit the omnic’s middle section. Hard enough to send a bolt of burning pain along his arm and jaw and to draw a grunt from his lips.

Enough to unbalance the B73 unit, to push it near the edge of the platform. Eventually, and McCree came back to his senses to realize in horror the consequences of his actions, to throw it off the wall.

A second, maybe less of fall into the frost, with his ears filled with voices screaming his name and the raucous beeping of the omnic under him, and then the world went black.

Ice. Frozen needles piercing his skin, cold water filling his mouth and lungs, burning everything up to his brain. McCree kicked and squirmed, his serape floating around him in a red cloud, and in the chaos of his impending panic all he could think of was _breathe_. The LED on the omnic slowly disappeared underwater and McCree flexed all his muscles to swim up to the surface. The sting of ice quickly faded into numbness, and even in the frenzy of his struggle for survival McCree knew he had to get out of there as soon as possible if he didn’t want to follow the B73 Unit’s fate and sink to the bottom of the river.

When his head broke the surface of the water, the first lungful of air didn’t feel as sweet as he’d imagined. His mouth stung, his lips felt weird and stiff, and with every stroke his arms were heavier, as if the water around him was molasses. Only deadly cold.

In front of him, only ten feet away, a block of concrete offered some hope for a handhold, and McCree put all his residual strength in reaching it.

The comm was silent, probably short-circuited after the dive, and when his hands grabbed the sharp edge the only sounds in his ears were his harsh breathing and the rhythmic chattering of his teeth. Dripping wet and shaking he pulled himself up, his clothes chilly and sticking to his body.

“Holy… holy shit”, he muttered, pushing his wet hair from his forehead.

A gust of wind howled in the halls surrounding him, worsening his shivers, and a dull pain spread from his shoulder to his arm, where a huge bruise was starting to swell where he’d hit the omnic.

Another close call, and despite the cold and the general discomfort of the situation he enjoyed the excitement for one more successful mission. Sure, he was still in danger of dying from hypothermia, but that was another story.

He crawled to the wall and brought his knees to his chest, trying to keep what little heat still resided in his body, but even grabbing his own wrist to wrap his arms around his legs was complicated. He was shaking too much, his limbs nearly wriggling as if in a seizure.

The others were not far, and soon enough they’d have found him, and yet…

A soft sound came from above him, a swift pitter-patter that made his heart beat faster.

Not an omnic, and definitely not an enemy.

McCree looked up to see Hanzo scan the horizon, his lost hat in hand. Only his eyes were visible above the black mask covering half of his face, sharp and wide with what looked much like concern – _or maybe yer just an old fool who sees what he wants to see, McCree._

He tried to speak, to catch his attention, but he only managed a moan, half bitten off by his chills. Still, it worked: Hanzo turned to him and blinked. McCree wanted to smile, even to wave, but really, his whole body was out of control.

Hanzo hooked a finger under his mask and pulled it down.

“I found him”, McCree heard him say, and in the blink of an eye the archer jumped from the ridge and landed with the grace of a large cat in front of him.

“ _He’s alive, isn’t he? Is he injured?”_

“I’m f-fine”, he replied, but he didn’t sound very convincing. Hanzo knelt in front of him and threw the hat on the ground. McCree mumbled some form of ‘thank you’, but bit the tip of his tongue and squirmed. Big, steady hands were on his face, and the way Hanzo touched his neck and throat, searching for wounds, might have looked harsh, but for his eyes.

Dark, shiny, running up and down McCree’s face and resting a second too long in his own. He couldn’t but smile – and now that his shivers were relenting a bit he even managed to wink.

“What have you… oh, nevermind. Tracer, he’s not bleeding and he’s responsive, but I’m pretty sure he fell into the river…”

“I d-didn’t _fall_ , I tackled an omnic!”

“… yes, whatever. He’s drenched and – no, no McCree, keep your eyes open, ok? – I suspect some serious hypothermia”.

“ _Alright, Han, I’m on my way. Bastion, wait around, you’ve got no problem with the cold, right_ ?” Lena’s voice rolled from Hanzo’s comm, tense and professional. After a long pause, McCree was sure he heard her say something along the lines of “ _Keep him awake. And warm, mind you, I’ll be there soon – this storm is a bitch, ETA fifteen minutes”._

“Got it”, and before McCree, in an increasingly sleepy state he knew didn’t bode anything good, could process the information, Hanzo was quickly removing his coat to drape it over the gunslinger’s shaking body.

“Hey there…”

“I searched half Volskaya Industries but you were nowhere to be found, then I saw that stupid hat of yours and your gun, and... mph. Are you better?”

“N-Not r-really”. McCree stuttered, back to his teeth-chattering and panting for the burning ache settling in his chest. “’m… sorry…”

Hanzo, sitting on his haunches, squinted and looked at him more closely. McCree, in his confused state, still sighed inwardly at how pretty his companion was – glossy black hair, perfectly combed even after a battle, noble nose and cheekbones so sharp they looked carved in diamond. When warm fingers fluttered to his forehead, McCree resisted the temptation to lean into the touch, detached and professional as it was. Because of course, even if he was quite in shock he remembered how Hanzo plainly didn’t like him, so there was nothing to hope for.

“You’re as cold as a popsicle”, he grumbled, and McCree chuckled in response.

“I’ll h-hold b-back any inappropriate c-comment on your metaphor”, he said. “Just… just imagine I did a v-very l-lame pun”.

To his surprise, Hanzo lowered his head to hide what looked very much like the tiniest of grins. In the dim lights, his skin turned a bright shade of pink on the tip of his ears and nose.

“I wish I could say you’re feverish, but I fear it’s just your terrible sense of humor showing”. He looked up, and his intent gaze met McCree’s.

A second longer than the cowboy’s deemed normal.

“… anyway, you may not be feverish right now, but you’ll be soon if we don’t do something”. Hanzo looked around and worried his lower lip, suddenly even sterner than he usually was. McCree tried to think of something to say – like, Lena was going to pick them up in ten minutes or so, they didn’t need to fuss – but then his world turned upside down. Hanzo took his coat away and snuggled close to him, wrapping them both in the warm fabric and circling McCree’s shivering frame with his arms.

Hanzo was wonderfully warm, and the scent that radiated from him – under the faint smell of sweat from their mission McCree recognized something sharp and sweet at the same time, probably soap or something like that – surrounded them. Frozen, and now not just from the cold, McCree blinked and glanced down at Hanzo’s head tucked under his jaw. The archer’s hands were splayed on his side, still and calm, and yet he couldn’t suppress the daydream of a caress hidden between his fingers.

“Woah, darlin’. Remind me to fall into frozen rivers more often if this is what I get as a reward”, he chuckled. It was working, actually; Hanzo’s heat seeped through the wet layers of his clothes, slowly taking dizziness and shivers away. He was feeling quite hot actually, and being an honest man he knew it didn’t depend on the layers of fabric wrapped around him.

He grinned and nestled closer to Hanzo, blessing the heavens the moment the man didn’t shrink back and sighing in silence at the sensation of Hanzo’s hair tickling his neck. He squirmed a bit, trying to get more comfortable, and Hanzo shot him one of his piercing stares – not very effective, considering how red his face was.

“Stop wiggling. It’s like trying to hold a huge fish”, he grumbled, and McCree laughed.

“Darlin’, yer really tryin’ to make me crack some more inappropriate puns here”.

Despite his serious face, Hanzo’s eyes glimmered with amusement. He held McCree in a tight grip and rubbed his hands on his shoulder as if to provide some heat via friction.

Needless to say, McCree adored every second of it. Even the awkward silence that followed, full of many unsaid things (on McCree’s side, at least), was new and exciting. Something he’d been hoping for and dared not even admit for months – namely, since the gorgeous man currently coiled around him had stepped into Overwatch headquarters, throwing to the wind years of accurately built resentment and hatred.

McCree relaxed in Hanzo’s arms and swallowed a contented purr. He would probably never have more than this, so he could as well enjoy the moment to its fullest, including Hanzo’s soft breath on his cheek, the steel and silk of his hands, the hard muscles of the thigh pressed against his leg.

Unfortunately, trying to approach Hanzo or, even worse, make him smile was harder than petting a hedgehog, and McCree treasured every glimpse of cheerfulness he managed to elicit from the archer. Just like now, that twitch in Hanzo’s lips at his silly remarks made his heart race faster.

“Are you still with me, McCree?”

_Always, if you’ll have me._

“Sure thing, honeybun. I was just…”

_… Enjoying the sight and creating memories for when you wouldn’t even come near enough to read anything in your eyes._

“… saving energies, I s’pose”.

“I see. You’re unusually silent – and I wonder…” Hanzo cleared his throat, carefully avoiding McCree’s face. “You’re not uncomfortable, are you? This is just… first aid, I think. Nothing else”.

“Oh. Yeah, of course”, he forced himself to say, even if his heart cracked minutely as he wrestled the words from his throat.

Another long silence ensued, and maybe McCree was just a delusional fool, but he had the definite impression that Hanzo squeezed him tighter. It hurt – it made something deep down his soul burn and bleed – because _of course_ it meant nothing, but he moved his own arm and draped it across Hanzo’s shoulders.

“Sorry, darlin’, it was starting to feel numb. Ya don’t mind, right?”

“Oh! Not at all… I mean, just don’t pass out on me and I’ll be fine”, and for a second he lifted his face, gracing McCree with one of those shy, quick smiles.

Oddly enough, the loud, chattering nature of McCree subsided to the sheer emotion of the moment. Even if such magic only existed in McCree’s imagination, he couldn’t but be quiet and listen to Hanzo breathing softly against him.

Even more oddly, Hanzo’s deep voice filled the silence – an occurrence that made McCree blink in surprise.

“Anyway, why did you jump in the river?”

“Told ya, I tackled the last omnic ‘cause Peacekeeper was outta bullets. That, or the blighted thing would've turned my head into a pile of minced beef”, he shrugged off.

Hanzo looked at him from under his long lashes and frowned a bit.

“Oh. That was… impressive”.

“Thank you kindly. It’s – unexpected. From you, that is”, and he immediately regretted the slip of his tongue, because Hanzo frowned some more and backed away.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, really. Don’t mind me, I’m just…”

“McCree?”

He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. Sincerity could hurt, but maybe it was the right time to try a warmer approach.

“I simply thought you despised me”, and he shrugged again; as if in response to the bouncing of his shoulder, Hanzo sat up and stared at him.

“You… you thought that…”

He looked genuinely shocked, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted – and McCree virtually punched his brain for the mental images involving those lips it provided him.

“Well, can you blame me? You barely speak to me. Or to anyone, for the matter, so I supposed…”

The wave of pain that passed on Hanzo’s face made him look younger and lost, and McCree surprised himself by closing his hand on the warm shoulder against him.

“It is not true! That I don’t like _you_ – I mean, that I don’t like anyone in Overwatch. It’s probably the other way around”, and his sharp cheekbones flushed crimson. McCree cocked an eyebrow and resisted the impulse to take Hanzo’s chin between two fingers and lift his face.

“Why d’you say so?”

The archer turned his face away, but McCree could still see the red patches on his cheeks, and how his long lashes quivered as he lowered his gaze.

“I am what I am. I’ve done things no one could – _should_ forgive, and yet…”

“Hanzo, I know. I won’t say it’s been easy, but I… well, it took me a while, ok? But there’s more to you than meets the eye. More than a striking good aim and steely determination, more than your regrets and past mistakes. You are… shoot, nevermind me. I’m an old sap”.

And it was true. All of it – Hanzo’d been an enemy first, and then a riddle. And eventually, when McCree had accepted Genji’s words and experience, a treasure he was determined to uncover. If only such treasure weren’t wrapped in a cold, introverted layer of suspicion.

Hanzo tensed around him, still refusing to look at him, and McCree feared he’d said something wrong. A sting of longing settled in his heart: he’d opened up to his partner and only managed to push him away.

_Good job, McCree. Well done._

Bitterness poisoned his voice, so he kept quiet. Volskaya Industries were dark and grim, and he suddenly felt cold; not merely from his accident, but something deeper and more painful.

He needed to keep his mouth busy somehow, but smoking was not an option.

_Fuck._

Words prickled on his tongue, words he was not going to say out loud – _yer fascinating and pretty, yer so sad and broken I want to make you smile, because it would make the whole world brighter and I’d feel like I did something good for once._

But Hanzo spoke before he could voice any of his thoughts.

“I’m not worthy of such consideration, McCree. I appreciate your kindness, but there are better people who could…”

A hysterical beeping broke through the chilled air, and both of them tensed. Whatever intimate connection had established between them evaporated at the unequivocal sound of an omnic approaching; Hanzo tensed and looked up at McCree – finally.

“Trouble”, he said without a sound, but McCree, before getting lost in the dark depths of his eyes, tilted his head.

Too loud to be one of the rebel units. Too familiar not to make him raise his head toward the higher platform.

“No”, he whispered. Absent-mindedly, he patted Hanzo’s shoulder; when the archer unwrapped his arms from his torso a small moan of disappointment left his lips. “That’s Bastion”.

They both stood up, and McCree shivered in his wet clothes.

Hadn’t it been for the blue led flashing on its headpiece, Bastion would have been unrecognizable from his less friendly companions. The omnic appeared over the edge of the platform, his chirping sounds loud and insistent.

“What… what is he saying?” Hanzo pulled his black mask over his nose; McCree felt slightly guilty in realizing his clothes too were damp now, but they had an emergency at hand.

“No idea, darlin’. I’ll be damned if I’ll ever get to understand an omnic, but… hey there, lad! We’re fine”, and he waved. Bastion didn’t seem to calm down; quite the opposite: he started to pace back and forth with a great clamor of metal and high-pitched sounds. McCree turned to Hanzo, and the archer simply lifted his hands in resignation.

“We have to see what’s going on”, he said, and before McCree could think of much else than retrieving his hat from the concrete ground, he was gone, swift as a lizard as he climbed up the wall.

The whole thing was not as immediate for him; still, he was strong and trained enough to grab a protruding edge and lift himself up. It was a little thing, especially when his prosthetic hand could literally rip through metal with no effort, but he reached Bastion a moment after Hanzo. The archer handed him Peacekeeper without looking at him, and McCree could have sighed when their hands touched in the casual gesture, but Bastion was too frantic to let him indulge in such pleasant distractions.

“Alright, alright – what’s wrong? Is it Lena?” Hanzo’s voice was low and steady, the kind of tone that could have calmed down a nervous child. Bastion beeped louder than ever and shook his head, at which Hanzo sighed. “Good. One less thing to worry about. What is it, then? More enemies incoming?”

“I don’t think so, Han… he wouldn’t be here otherwise, right?”, and Bastion nodded very fast. “Look, buddy, we’re having some trouble understanding you, but can you show us? So we…”

Bastion didn’t let him finish. He switched to his tank mode and rolled away without ceasing his calling, and both Hanzo and McCree had to run to keep up with him.

“Any idea?” asked Hanzo, fishing his last arrow from the quiver on his back and nocking it on Stormbow.

“Nope, ‘m sorry. Hey, saw those dragons of yours earlier, they’re pretty amazing”, and he could have sworn Hanzo’s eyes narrowed in a quick smile.

“My thanks, but I fear this is not the moment to discuss my fighting strategies”.

“Maybe it’s the right time to give me a further demonstration – I’m out of ammos, so I’ll depend on you if anything attacks us”.

It sounded weird – scary but comforting at the same time. Judging by the quick look Hanzo shot him, his companion was thinking something similar. His eyes crinkled before he turned back to follow Bastion.

“Don’t worry, cowboy. I’ll keep you safe”.

Such a phrase warmed something in McCree’s chest (and not much more, because honestly now that he was not engulfed in Hanzo’s warmth he was starting to shake again in the cold Russian night), but then Bastion came to a halt and they both stumbled not to fall on top of the omnic.

“What the…”

The omnic tweeted and poked McCree in the side with the muzzle of his cannon, pushing him forward with not so gentle nudges.

“Wait – is that Ganymede?”

Bastion nodded and his led dulled for a second when Hanzo took over McCree and approached the small, whimpering yellow fluff on the ground. He knelt on the floor and inspected the bird, brow furrowed and eyes all serious.

“He’s hurt but I can’t see… Bastion, he didn’t get shot, right?”, and Bastion shook his muzzle in response. McCree crouched at Hanzo’s side, and his throat clenched. Ganymede peeped dolefully, blinking his black beady eyes to McCree; obviously in pain, the little bird tried to stand up, but its left wing stuck out at a weird angle, the feathers all ruffled under the ruthless howl of snow and wind.

“No, this ain’t a gunshot. It would have…” _Turned the lil’ thing to a pile of feathers and blood_ , but he didn’t feel like troubling Bastion even more, so he skipped to something more practical. “Bastion, did ya see what happened?”

He didn’t expect an answer, but to his surprise the omnic turned back to recon mode and pointed his arm to the sky. Both Hanzo and McCree followed the gesture, but found nothing worth their attention.

“I don’t get it”, muttered McCree; the following series of beeps, accompanied by more insistent twitches of the robotic arm, showed that the culprit was somewhere over their heads.

“I do”. Hanzo slowly stood up and removed his mask. “The cables. Ganymede hit them while you two were going back to the helicarrier, right?”

Bastion nodded again, so frantically McCree feared his head could roll off his body. The cold was crawling over his skin, and he let out a white cloud of steam in a deep breath.

“Hanzo, we gotta take Ganymede to the med bay. We can’t leave him here, you know that, right?”

The archer’s eyes met his own, and for that brief moment McCree felt the beginning of a bond forming between them.

“We don’t have a veterinary in Overwatch”, he protested, although he didn’t sound convinced. Bastion moaned low and quiet, something that sounded painfully like a desperate ‘please’, and Hanzo closed his eyes.

“We have Angela. She’s a miracle worker, isn’t she?”, and the rest of his thought – _she brought your brother back from the dead_ – fell heavy in the silence.

Hanzo didn’t say anything and only looked at McCree with a puzzled expression. Then his hand moved to the side of his head and rested on the comm.

“Tracer?”

“ _On my way, luv! Geez, this weather is awful, I’m…”_

“Lena, we have a problem. Ganymede is wounded, we need to get to Angela as soon as possible”, he added, and how grave he sounded. McCree couldn’t suppress a bubble of affection and pride for what that broken, lonely man was becoming.

_“Oh no! Hold on, I’m almost there – keep him warm and safe, and tell Bastion we’ll do everything to make Ganymede fine again”._

She didn’t add anything, and the faint echo of her voice died in the night. Hanzo took a deep breath and gestured to the wounded bird with his chin.

“Pick him up, McCree. We can’t leave him there”.

“Who, me? Bad idea, honey, my right hand is cold as fuck, and the left one…” He wiggled his metal fingers, so frozen the shining surface was blurred.

He didn’t expect Hanzo’s face to go pale, or his eyes to shot to his feet.

“I can’t”.

“Of course you can, you won’t hurt him, it’s just a…”

“No, McCree, please. I’m… I’m not good with small, delicate things. And… little birds in particular, I… I…”

And the unspoken truth dawned on him. Genji and the loving nickname their father used with him – _sparrow_.

A river of words swelled in his throat, and yet none passed the barrier of his lips. He was petrified by the almost physical aura of pain and regret that surrounded Hanzo, and despite his stern self-control he could almost feel his thoughts. They were full of blood and tears, of betrayed trust and the sensation of a permanent taint on his soul.

As if he thought he could never be good again.

Something deeper and wilder than brain moved his flesh hand to Hanzo’s. He squeezed his fingers gently, but with enough strength to be sure he realized it was intentional. At the unexpected contact, Hanzo turned abruptly to him and stared straight into his soul.

 _Why are you doing this?,_ those dark eyes seemed to say, and McCree smiled. Even if it made him feel silly and his heart roared against his ribs, he smiled until his voice felt steady enough to speak.

“You can do it. I trust you, Hanzo”.

So simple and yet so terrifying. He watched the race of emotions on his partner’s face – suspect and doubt, hope and denial – and didn’t let go until he saw what he was waiting for: _acceptance_. Hanzo bowed his head and sighed, crouching and rubbing his hands together to warm them. Without a word, he cupped Ganymede in his palms, with a gentleness that seemed impossible for such a big man.

A soft flow of Japanese fell from his mouth, and even if McCree couldn’t understand a single word it sounded sweet and reassuring. Bastion’s metal shoulders slumped, and a long, hushed beep vibrated around him.

McCree clapped the omnic on the back with his prosthetic hand and forced his smile to be brash and nonchalant.

“It’s gonna be alright, mate, you’ll see”, he said. Snow was sticking to his wet serape, piling on top of his hat, and the cold in his bones was almost burning; but when Hanzo looked at him once more, an enigma on two legs with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, the words resonated in his head.

_It’s gonna be alright._

But at this point, with the sudden flashing lights of the helicarrier appearing above them, he was not sure who he was talking to.

 

 

 

 

“Did she tell you what happened?”

“No, only to go to the med bay”. Lúcio hurried down the corridor, with Hana at his heels. None of them felt like joking at all – Lena’s call had been cryptic and alarming at the same time. Somebody’d gotten hurt during the mission, and Lúcio felt his heart drop to his stomach at the thought.

“Do you think they’ll be fine?” Hana’s voice shook a bit, and not from their run; Lúcio turned to look at her, big dark eyes wide with concern and cheeks pale. He knew what was going on in her head, because he shared the same fears: what if their plan – their _game_ , as it seemed now, with the prospect of Hanzo and McCree having risked their lives – had cost more than they were willing to risk?

“Sure”, he said with a smile; it was forced, and yet it worked. Hana blinked and something relaxed in her eyes. “I mean, think about them, they’re grown ups, they’re big, buff and lethal – and of course, Lena would have told us if anything serious had happened to them, don’t you think?”

They turned left under the flash of the white neon lights. They were almost there, and Lúcio held his breath when Hana’s hand slipped in his own, squeezing it hard.

“I hate this, you know? This constant sense of impending doom, of threat every time we set foot out of the base”, she admitted in a whisper. Lúcio stopped and looked at her – and his heart floated back into place. This time the curl of his lips was sincere, as was the gentle hand that fluttered to Hana’s cheek.

“We can do it. We’re not alone, you know? Come on, let’s go”, and he blinked at her, resuming their run without leaving her hand.

In the med bay they were greeted by a small crowd, and he felt his shoulder shake for the unexpected relief. Hana interlaced her fingers with his own and let out a small, dry sob at the sight of Hanzo and McCree side by side. They looked tired – McCree in particular, the tip of his nose very red and a vicious cough shaking his chest – but very much alive. And Lúcio didn’t miss how they seemed to lean too close to each other, Hanzo tilting his head to listen to whatever McCree was telling him.

“Here you are!” Lena’s voice burst out from a corner, and Lúcio turned to see her bounce toward them with Genji in her trail. Hana blushed fiercely, and out of consideration, Lúcio let go of her hand. Just for a moment, because the girl took it back with a snort and more strength than before.

He didn’t complain.

“You scared us to death! What happened? They seem ok – is it Bastion? Did anything…”

“No, no, Bastion’s fine”, she interrupted her, raising her hand. Her face was pale and drawn.

“It’s Ganymede”, interjected Genji in a low voice. Hana covered her mouth with her fingers and shook her head, tears in her eyes.

“Oh fuck. What… is he…” Lúcio couldn’t bring himself to say the word, but it was like a nightmare coming to life. That little bird was so important to Bastion he dared not think what the loss could mean to the omnic.

“Not yet – I mean, _no_ ”. Lena stomped her foot, a stubborn grimace on her face. “Hanzo brought him back and now Angela’s taking care of him”.

“She’s not a vet”, said Genji. “Don’t get me wrong, I hope with all my heart that the small guy will make it, but don’t get your hopes up. It would only hurt if…”

“Shut up! I don’t want to listen to your nonsense!” Lena turned to him with fire in her eyes, and poked him in the chest with her finger. It wasn’t very effective, since the metal on Genji’s torso cared little about her gesture, but Lúcio saw the cyborg back away a bit. “It’s Angela we’re talking of – she rebuilt you from scratches, I know she can patch up an injured bird. I _know_ it!”

“Lena… I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t ever say something like that again, ok?”

“Ok, but…”

A symphony of chirps and beeps interrupted their quarrel. All four of them turned to the door, and even before they saw Angela appear from the emergency room Lúcio noticed the slow grin spreading on McCree’s face – and how the same expression mirrored on Hanzo’s lips.  
“Please, Bastion, try to be careful for the next week. Ganymede’s going to be as good as new, but his wing needs some time to heal properly and… ok, ok, I’m glad you’re happy, there’s no need to thank me for something so simple!”, she laughed as the omnic rang unceasingly, running in circles around her with the small, yellow bundle of Ganymede perched on his head.

“I love happy endings”. Lena sighed and crossed her arms, and Genji quietly chuckled behind his faceplate. Lúcio bit his tongue not to laugh, and then some more when Hana clung to his arm, subtly wiping her face on his shoulder.

Down the corridor, McCree patted Hanzo’s shoulder, and if Lúcio was correct – he knew he was – his hand rested a second too long on the archer’s back to call the gesture casual. He was almost sure to see a wave of pink crawl upon Hanzo’s face, but then McCree burst into a booming sneeze and Angela, still surrounded by Bastion’s loud gratitude, sharply turned to him.

“You caught a cold”.

“I didn’t! It’s just – uh – Hanzo, darlin’, your hair tickles!”

“Don’t you try to place the blame on me, McCree”, and despite how hard his voice sounded, Hanzo’s eyes were brighter than they used to be. “I’m not the one who jumped into a frozen river to finish his hot streak”.

“Yeah but…” A fit of cough interrupted his retort, and Angela pressed her lips together.

“I swear to God, Jesse, if I see you smoking or smell that disgusting cigar of yours around you, you’ll be in great trouble. Let me visit you, and then get some rest”.

“But I…”

“No ‘but’s”, and she pointed to the emergency room. “Obey. Now”.

McCree mumbled and reluctantly let go of Hanzo, but not without one last gaze full of longing. Lúcio held Hana close and smiled in earnest at the sight of the cowboy, head low and hat in his hands, being herded by Angela, and especially at the look of bright affection on Hanzo’s face.

Ganymede sang softly from Bastion’s head, and Lúcio felt the melody settle deep in his bones.

Such a small thing, and yet so important.

_But that’s the point: small things can change the world, or at least make people’s lives better. Hope you two will understand it._

He stared for a second at Hanzo, at the unusually sweet light on his face, and knew they were on the right path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No birbs were harmed in the making of this fanfiction I swear.  
> Y'all reading and leaving feedbacks are precious beings and you deserve the world. As usual, see you on Tumblr @acupofgeek


	4. Chapter 4

Hours under the sun of Gibraltar had made the car he was leaning against warm, almost unpleasantly so through his jeans. Hanzo huffed and checked his phone – 4.02 PM.

He tapped his foot on the ground and rolled his eyes. She was late.

Alright, truth was  _he_ was early, as usual, but he found extremely unprofessional that Lena didn’t show up at the appointed hour to leave for their mission. He rose his fingers to the comm hidden in his ear, but before he could click its button a young voice exploded in his head.

_“Hey there, Hanzo! Sorry, I know, I should be there already but I’m having some technical trouble…”_

“I was about to call you. What happened?”

_“Some chronal accelerator malfunction, nothing to worry about – I was just…”_

“I can take care of the mission on my own”, he cut her short. Maybe he was just imagining things, but her voice, spry as always, sounded weird. Mischievous, maybe? He ignored the tickling of his sixth sense and shook his head.

 _“No way, luv! I’ve got you a replacement, you two’ll do perfectly fine even without me! He’ll join you in a moment_ ”.

The hair on the back of his head stood up in creeped anticipation. He frowned, looking down the empty alley where the impromptu car they were supposed to use for the mission was parked.

“Are you sure this is all? Because you sound…”

 _“… perfectly_ fine  _, I said! Waste no time with me, honey, and check your briefing. You’ll have to give him the details. Cheers!”_ , and the line fell silent.

Hanzo blinked and stared at the empty air. Something felt wrong, even if the mission he was supposed to attend with Lena was nothing but recon. All at once having Stormbow tucked on the back seat and not slinging from his back, heavy and reassuring, gave him the chills. He felt exposed – but something deep down his soul suggested him that it didn’t depend on any immediate danger.

He felt it even before hearing it – a tension under his skin, a wrong note in the soft, remote chaos of the city all around him. Something was approaching, still too far to produce any distinct sound and yet twisting the fabric of reality.

Decades of training in secrecy and stealth did their job, but Hanzo barely had the time to realize something was off before a tinkling sound rose to the surface of his tension, making it worse but for completely different reasons.

The unequivocal jingling of spurs approached in the alley, and despite everything Hanzo let out a small sigh, that turned to a choked gasp when McCree appeared in front of him.

“Here you are, darlin’!” he greeted him, and dear heavens, he was wearing his whole set of serape and hat and his terrible BAMF buckle. Hanzo bit the inside of his cheek when a broad smile split McCree’s beard, and his teeth sank into his flesh to stop him from commenting the two plastic cups he was holding.

“Why am I not surprised?” he moaned, standing up and walking around the car to the driver’s side door. A distinct scent of coffee filled the air.

“’Cause we work well together, and I’m always up for doing a buddy a favor?” McCree placed the cups on the roof and opened the door, slumping on the seat and getting the two coffees back.

Hanzo snorted from his nose and sat behind the wheel, focusing his skills – and he had a pretty impressive set of that – on keeping his heart steady and not looking at McCree and his stupid, bright, heartwarming smile.

“You got the briefing?” he asked as he fastened his seatbelt. The car was an old thing, a rusty black Camaro from the earlier days of hovercars. Give it some ten years and it would have counted as vintage; right now, it was plain bad, even if Torbjorn’s intervention had made it unusually sturdy.

“Not really. Lena was all bouncy and in a hurry – she said something about her timey thing”, and he vaguely gestured to his chest, “not feeling completely alright. She didn’t tell me what her problem was, she just ran to Winston and told me to meet you here. Hope you’re not disappointed in your new working partner”.

 _Of course I’m not, it just drives me insane that the whole world seems to be conspiring to throw you in my life_ , he thought. The key beeped in his pocket and the engine coughed a couple of times  _. What’s worse is that I don’t mind at all. Quite the contrary._

“Let’s get the job done”. After a moment the car stopped making those beastly sounds, and Hanzo felt a moment of excitement at the rumbling of the engine resonating under his palms. A grin tucked at his lips: the vehicle might be ancient, but Torbjörn’s intervention was clear.

“Got us coffee”, said McCree, placing one of the cups in the cup holder between the seats. “I thought it wouldn’t hurt to play along with the ‘cop buddies’ trope”.

The old Hanzo – all discipline and appropriateness, the one Genji liked to describe as ‘allergic to fun’ – protested that it was foolish and pointless, that they weren’t living in one of McCree’s silly trash movies. Surprisingly, though, the present Shimada smiled as they drove down the alley and off to their destination.

“How considerate of you”, he said, and at the corner of his eye McCree bit his lip and beamed.

“Just a lil' thing. Looks like we have some time to spend together, so why not make it a good time?”

The flush up his cheeks burned, and Hanzo absent-mindedly turned on the AC. Unfortunately, the heat crawling up his neck had little to do with the bright summer day.

McCree took a sip of his coffee and smacked his lips, apparently unaware of his companion’s embarrassment.

“So, what are we going to do?”

Work sounded like a safe topic, so Hanzo quickly recollected himself and pointed at the glove compartment. He inadvertently brushed McCree’s leg with the back of his hand, and retracted as if he’d burned himself; the cowboy didn’t miss his confusion, but only stared, suddenly serious.

“There is… there is a tablet in there. With all the information you need”.

“Oh, fine”, and he bent forward. Hanzo grabbed the wheel so hard his knuckles protruded white from his skin. “Maybe a summary, in the meantime? I’d like to hear it from your voice…”

Hanzo nearly hit the brakes with his full strength; only a lifetime of training to face the most unlikely of threats kept his – sweaty, and kind of shaky – hands on the wheel and his head up. He could do little to stop the twitch in his lid, but when he spoke he didn’t sound as anxious as he’d feared.

“We’re to track down a group of weapon dealers known to operate between Europe and Africa. Winston’s report read that they were spotted here in Gibraltar”.

For what he could see, careful not to take his eyes off the trafficked road for too long, McCree was reading the brief, and the grin on his lips was gone. His face looked stern, even dangerous, all sharp edges and deep shadows cast by the bright blue light of the screen.

“Talon?” A growl, and this time Hanzo turned to look at him. Without the spark in his eyes and the carefree aura that always surrounded him, McCree was really the wanted, fear-inducing outlaw he’d read of. Goosebumps rose on his arms despite the warm air hissing from the window, and his dragons flickered blue.

“No”, he replied with his most professional voice. “Vishkar, most likely. There were suspects about implications of my fam – of the Shimada clan” _Not my family, not anymore. I turned my back on that life and will never look back._ And despite the snarl scrunching his nose, there was no regret in his thoughts, only single-minded focus. “That’s why I got the mission”.

“Nah, this ain't your folks or Vishkar”, said McCree, tapping his metal finger on the screen and turning it off. “I say mercenaries. It’s too sloppy and loud. Were we in America I’d suspect Los Muertos, it’s more their style – no, darlin’, we’re dealing with stray dogs tryina make a name in the face of the big ones”.

“This doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous”.

“Not at all. If possible, it makes them even more fucked up”. He threw the tablet back into the storage compartment and took a cigarillo from under his serape. “They may not be smart, but they bite”. A flash of red and gold, and the car filled with the sweet smell of tobacco. Hanzo breathed the smoke in, ashamed of himself and of how that innocent gesture made his blood boil – as if he was taking something that was McCree and McCree alone inside him.

He swallowed the lump of untimely arousal that swelled in his chest and cleared his throat.

“I see. Anyway, our task is to look and take note of their movements, nothing more. I fear it’s going to be a long and boring day”.

“With you? No way”, and he chuckled. Hanzo almost choked on his own feelings and breathed hard through his nose.

_Stupid charming handsome smooth cowboy._

Unwanted and greatly cherished memories of that day, less than a week before, when he’d got to hold him with the excuse of keeping him warm and alive decided to come up at that very moment. Hanzo wanted to close his eyes and chase them away, but he knew it would only make them more intense. And secondly, he was  _driving_.

“Anyway”, he blurted out, all too aware of how his ears felt on fire, “we’re heading to the docks. Keep your eyes open”.

“I always do, sugar”, but right now those eyes were insisting too much on Hanzo.

_It’s going to be a long day indeed._

 

His forecast for an uneventful afternoon proved correct. Parked by a dismal empty building, its grayish walls covered in damp spots, they both sat in silence, checking the nothing happening around them.

Hanzo squirmed on his seat – two hours in and his ass already felt flat. He didn’t think Winston’s clues to be wrong, but he was starting to suspect their target had changed plans. He rolled the now empty cup between his palms and sighed, sparing McCree a fleeting gaze.

Sunset became him, the copper light chiseling his profile and painting strokes of gold in his dark hair. Denying it was pointless: he had a crush on him. Of course, he’d be dead before admitting it with Genji, but his words in that damned video were the plain truth. McCree was a handsome man, and he was not immune to his charm.

_Not that it would do me any good: he’s got better things on his mind than to pay me any attention._

As if roused by the intensity of his thought, McCree turned to face him.

“So”, he said, tilting his hat back with his metal fingers and cracking a smile. “We’re stuck here for God knows how long, why not make the most outta it?”

Hanzo blinked and opened his mouth, while a long series of unacceptable scenarios took life in his fantasy.

“What… what do you mean?”

“Nothing special, honey, but it wouldn’t hurt to get to know ya better, am I right? Come on, tell me something I don’t know about you!”

“I… can’t see how this could help”, he muttered, and turned back to stare at the glimmer of sunset on the sea.

“Dunno, yer pretty much a mystery, so anything will do. Don’t be shy, it can be anything, let’s keep it light; I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in the least”. He pushed the seat back and lifted his legs, crossing his ankles on the deck. Hanzo shook his head and prepared for one more of his strict replies, but then, from the mists of his memory, McCree’s wounded look emerged to the surface.

He’d tried to be friendly on several occasions, and Hanzo always pushed him away. If he insisted, though, maybe he really had good intentions. And Hanzo was sure he couldn’t bear to see his hurt puppy eyes ever again.

He scanned his brain and carefully avoided the crowd of painful, blood-stained images that haunted his mind. Scrap anything that involved Genji – even those precious moments when they’d been only kids, laughing and chasing each other in the courtyards of Hanamura – and his family in general; better not mention his years as a renegade, alone and in a dark place he still considered his own, despite being a cold and wrong one.

“Dogs”, he said at once. “I like dogs”. It sounded silly and out of the blue, and he immediately regretted his words, but it looked like McCree disagreed with his judgment.

“Really?” The broad smile on his lips reflected in his eyes; he slid his legs from the deck and turned his back to the door, looking at Hanzo with interest. “I could have sworn you were more of a cat person!”

“I like cats too, but I’ve always wanted a dog. There were some around Hanamura, but as a kid I wasn’t allowed near them – the heir of the Shimada clan petting mutts in the streets? Extremely unseemly”. He felt a sting of pain for those long lost days, but the vague satisfaction for how sarcastic and light-hearted his voice sounded covered the longing. “In retrospect, it was better this way, I had too little time to raise a puppy, between the training and the duties as a firstborn. But I could have used some company after I left Japan ten years ago”.

“I know, right? The nights can be really dark when you’ve got no one to comfort you. And more often than not a wet nose and a wiggling tail are the best kind of company people like us could hope for”.

“Not that I think I’ve ever been worthy of something as pure and innocent as a dog, but you’ve got a point”. The conversation was already leaning toward the path of bitterness and regrets, and he fumbled to straighten it into a more relaxing territory. “I remember one in particular – a pup, all big paws and long legs. He used to wander around the palace, and I fed him everytime I could. He grew up to be a fine beast, with the eyes of a wolf and one floppy ear”.

This was something he could revel into – simple and clean, the sensation of the dog’s soft tongue lapping his hand and the thrill of rebellion when his thirteen-year-old self sneaked some food from the kitchens and left it on the back door.

“I used to have a dog”, said McCree, snatching Hanzo from his réverie. When he turned to the cowboy, there was another cigarillo between his teeth, and his eyes were lost in pictures of his past that only existed in his head. “When I was in Deadlock”.

It was risky, and he felt unsure about how his interest might be interpreted, but Hanzo spoke before he could think twice.

“What was his name?”

McCree chuckled, but it was a melancholic sound.

_You said there’s more to me than meets the eye, but it is twice as true for you, Jesse McCree._

“He didn’t really have a name. I s’pose you could say he wasn’t even mine, but someday this scruffy, mangy thing not much bigger than a cat started following the gang around, and I was… well, I was fourteen, and a murderer already. But a kid nonetheless”. He took his hat off and rolled it in his lap, shaking his head. “I called him Dog. The other guys kicked him away and threatened to shoot him if he got too near, but he was a good boy with me. We shared our meals and he slept inside my bedroll – or so he did until he grew up to be a mastiff as heavy as me, a drooling, snarling bastard that once bit the boss’ hand”.

“A brave fellow”.

“Too brave”. A lighter appeared in McCree’s hand, and once more smoke filled the car. “That son of a bitch – the boss, not Dog, although his mother  _was_ a bitch indeed – wanted to give me a lesson for something I did. Can’t even remember what, but as you can imagine I was not an easy teen; the man snatched me by the front of my shirt and would have punched me in the face, but Dog wasn’t having any of this. So he jumped and bit him”. He took a drag, and some ash fell on the front of his serape. “They shot him in the head. I had to get rid of the body”.

The silence that fell upon them reeked of dust and death. When Hanzo looked at McCree he didn’t even try to hide the sincere anguish on his face.

“I’m so sorry, McCree. You… you two deserved better”.

“Don’t mind me, justice is a rarely bestowed gift, that’s why I decided I had to dispense it myself”. He shrugged and grinned, even if there was still sadness in his eyes. “Sorry, pumpkin, didn’t mean to make things this dark”.

“It’s alright, we both have our share of shadows lurking behind us”, and the truth of that simple statement tied some kind of knot between them. They indeed shared a similar path through the darkest parts of their lives, and his heart beat faster at the realization.

“But come on, let’s keep this going. Your turn, archer”.  
  
“My turn? For what?”  
  
“Ask away, I promise I won’t hold back”.

Hanzo wrinkled his nose and tried to think of something. He was not used to having people around, let alone to being interested enough to overcome his own boundaries and inquire about their lives. But McCree was there with him, and he was smiling, and the world was not so bad in their private moment in the sunset.

“Ok, er… any special skill nobody knows of?” He tried to keep it casual, but the mischief on the cowboy’s face made it perfectly clear how poor his choice of words was. “Not like that! I only… I mean, I…”

“Fine, fine, don’t worry! But yeah, I know quite a lot of tricks in bed too. But I guess that’s not what you were asking about… by the way, I can play guitar. Not the most interesting thing I can do with my fingers, but…”

“Guitar then? I didn’t know”, he interrupted him, and damn, now even his neck felt painfully hot. Luckily, McCree didn’t insist with his remarks.

“Yeah, although it’s been ages since I last played. You know, metal and strings don’t get along very well”, and he wiggled his prosthetic hand. “I could ask Angela for some kind of covering, I miss music. Sometimes, in the desert, it was the only thing that prevented me from going insane”.

There it was again, the weight of loneliness and regret crawling through his words. Hanzo wanted to take his hand – and as soon as the idea formed in his mind, he stiffened. Had he really entertained such a childish thought? But McCree spoke again as if to fill the silence.

“And you?”

“Oh? Well – there’s archery, martial arts, and…”

“No no, we’re not discussing work here. Surprise me! Like – can you cook?”

“Er – no. Not at all”, he admitted, and smiled at the barking laughter that erupted from McCree’s lips. “I survived on pre-cooked meals and stubbornness when I was on the run, and before that, I never had to cook anything. But I can mix fairly decent cocktails”.

“It runs in the family, innit?”

“Genji taught me something when we were younger, and it stuck”.

“Remember me to ask you for a drink then, I want to test your skill. Beware tho, I’m a strict critic when it comes to booze!”

Hanzo chuckled quietly and checked the docks. A young couple passed by, holding hands and kissing every other step; definitely not the kind of foes they were hunting.

“Next’s on me. So tell me, Hanzo: anything you changed your mind about? Nothing complicated, more like that food you didn’t like and then you started to appreciate as you grew up, or…”

“Spicy things”, he answered immediately, and couldn’t help but smirk at the memory. “I used to like them, but once Genji challenged me to prove I could eat more wasabi than him. I won, of course, but it was an ordeal”.

“Holy shit, how much did you eat?”

“A whole bowl”, and he cupped his hands to show the quantity. “Genji started to cry and blow his nose halfway through it, so I felt compelled to do better than him. And I did, but I don’t recommend it”.

McCree laughed so loud his head hit the window, and Hanzo joined him.

“You should have seen him, all red-faced and whining – and I wasn’t in a better state, only very good at hiding how much my stomach burned!”

“Oh, fuck, I wish I’ve seen you two! I’ll make sure to offer Genji some wasabi someday, I really want to see his reaction!” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and his laughter died all of a sudden. Hanzo gulped, calming down himself, and looked at him. “It’s up to me now, isn’t it?”

“If… if you wish, of course. But don’t feel…”

“I hated you”.

The warm summer twilight chilled instantly. Hanzo tensed, every trace of intimacy shattering in a rainfall of ice and bitterness.

Of course, McCree hated him, he’d been right in his analysis since the beginning. He was trying to play along with the friendly pattern for Overwatch’s sake, but no one in their right mind could’ve wanted to have anything to do with an assassin – especially when they could see what he’d done, written in steel and blood in every cyber limb on Genji’s new body.

His voice was lost, and the sun sinking behind the horizon made him sick. Too bright and red over dark waters, a world of threats and horror hiding just below the surface.

_I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere._

But McCree spoke again, and all his cheeriness was gone. Hanzo wanted to cover his ears and ignore him, but he was frozen in place.

“When I met your brother… fuck, he was a mess, and not from a physical point of view. He was furious and wouldn’t speak to anyone”.

“I… I know what I did, there’s no need to…”

“He opened up a bit, but it took me years to breach through his pain. And when he told me about you, I wanted to despise you”.

Hanzo focused on the deserted docks; the shrieks of the seagulls echoed the roaring of anger and suffering in his chest, and yet he couldn’t voice any of them. Broken and silent, he prayed McCree would be done quickly.

“Because what were you? A nightmare, a ghost that slashed my best friend’s body and poisoned his heart. You were the enemy, and…”

“I am what I am, as I’ve already told you”, he snarled under his breath. His hands went to the steering wheel, clutching the black round shape so hard his joints hurt. “After the mission’s done you can go back to your…”

McCree’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was metal, circuits and screws and a bunch of technology, and still it was warm against his skin.

“I wanted to hate you for years.  _Then_ I met you”.

The grip on his arm was strong, and from experience Hanzo knew that McCree’s hand could have crushed his bones. Instead, the unexpected caress that rubbed his forearm was gentle. Too gentle.

“Overwatch fell and I ran away. Lost track of the remaining members – of Winston and Lena, and of Genji too, of course. Didn’t plan to answer the recall at first, you know? I’d suffered enough already and I was done with havin’ around people I could lose. It hurt too much”.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this. You’ve just said you hate me”.

“That’s  _not_ what I said. Let me finish, ok? I… I’ve had this on my heart for too long”. He sighed deeply and moved, but Hanzo stood still. He’d let himself lower his guard, and only to receive the cruelest of slaps.

But McCree persisted.

“I was alone and I was fine, or so I thought. I missed the guys sometimes, but… I dunno, they were probably better off without me. In the end, tho, it was Genji who found me, and he was different”.

“McCree, I don’t want to listen to this story. Let’s focus on our task and keep it quiet”.

“No, sugar, I’m not done with you”, and his voice sounded threatening. From the bottom of his seething despair, Hanzo felt something come to life – a creature of desire and need that growled its appreciation. “Genji brought me back, he was a new man with a purpose and a smile always lingering behind his eyes. He made me feel important and blew on the embers of my team spirit. Alone I was just a bounty hunter, but with our old friends? Well, we could change the world”.

The last light of the day disappeared from the docks, leaving the labyrinth of square buildings and narrow streets bleak. Hanzo swallowed the urge to reply, crushed by the enormity of guilt and loss on his soul; his eyes wandered from the horizon to the steel hand around his wrist.

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. “It hurts, and you know it”.

“Because I couldn’t stand the idea of this secret between us. I wish it didn’t hurt, but it’s the only way to heal”. For his dear life, Hanzo could never have imagined that the cowboy’s voice could sound so sweet. “Because it’s true, I tried to loathe you, but then I met you and…”

He dropped his hand, and Hanzo turned to him. Something inside him screamed  _no, come back, touch me again, please don’t let me go._

“Genji’d already been telling me the other half of the story – the one involving your family brainwashing you, and how heartbroken you were after your fight. It’s something he didn’t mention when we were in Blackwatch, you know? I’m so happy he found Zenyatta and his peace”. McCree took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Then he found you, and you came, and the first time I saw you I felt like I was looking through a mirror”.

Hanzo remembered that day. His first day in Overwatch, with so many suspicious eyes on him and his armor of pride and stubbornness sustaining him. He wanted them all to leave him alone, or else he’d have to face his own crimes again.

“You were… sad. And lonely, and clearly a dangerously skilled fighter, but there was more. I looked at you and behind those dark, angry eyes I saw a lost child. The same wayward kid I kept well hidden inside me, refusing to acknowledge him and brushing away with my jackass attitude”.

“I’m not a child. I’m a monster”, he snarled through gritted teeth.

“We all are. But how could I hate someone so brave?”

At this, Hanzo turned to him, blinking in sincere astonishment.

“Brave?  _Me_?”

McCree cocked an eyebrow and smiled – a kind, intimate gesture that melted something deep inside him.

“It takes a great deal of courage to go back to your past and tryina make things right, darlin’. A courage I’ve never had: I just moved on. But there you were, with your broody silences and your fierce grimace, and… well, I simply couldn’t hate you”.

He toyed with a strand from the frayed hem of his serape and shook his head with a muffled laughter.

“I was curious, at first, but you were quick enough to gain my respect. And then…” A small cough, and he ruffled his hair. “If you got to be strong enough to pack up and answer your brother’s call, then maybe I could do that too”.

Completely speechless, Hanzo stared at his own hands. Confusion was fading away, leaving space for a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading across his chest.

He was not a good man, and yet he’d received the priceless gift of a second chance – at life, but not just that. McCree cared about him, or else he wouldn’t be telling him this deep truth.

Instinct poked him and suggested he looked at him, maybe search for his touch again. But right now, it was too much.

“Thank you”, he whispered. “For your words. For a kindness I don’t think I’m worth of”.

“I’m not being kind, just sincere. And… fuck, if I have to be completely sincere…” McCree pressed his hat back on his head and leaned toward Hanzo. How weird that look in his eyes was, so intense and meaningful it was almost scary. “Hanzo, it’s ok if you tell me to get lost, but…”

The rest of the sentence faded in a jolt of sudden tension. Hanzo guessed it more than seeing it, and whatever passed on his face mirrored on McCree’s.

In the dusk, black shadows crawled between the storehouses. Too many to be casual, too sneaky not to be suspicious.

In the blink of an eye, the moment changed drastically – no more time for confessions now, only for action.

None of them spoke; McCree quietly loaded Peacekeeper while Hanzo turned the car on, cursing in silence the soft roar of the engine.

Tracking the suspects was an easy task: a couple of turns, the constant sensation of their foes right beyond the reach of their eyes, and in the darkness they followed them from the distance.

The sweet feeling McCree’s words left in his heart was still there, covered by the flow of adrenaline preceding the thrill of a fight, but it was something he could hold on to.

A reason to fight for.

“Look at them. A dozen men, loading a van with – shit, those are weapons indeed, but I can’t see any logo”. McCree’s whisper was barely audible over the buzz of the car; his right eye shone a faint red, and Hanzo remembered he, too, was not completely human.

“I can’t see much”, he had to admit, but McCree shook his head.

“Then you’ll have to trust me”.

“That I can do”, he replied, and it was like letting a bird fly free after years in a cage. He let go of the steering wheel with his right hand and extended his arm to the back seat, blindly searching for Stormbow. McCree’s fingers wrapped once more on him, but this time there was a note of warning in his touch.

“Wait. Weren’t we supposed just to look?”

A smirk spread on his lips, and in the near complete darkness Hanzo saw McCree lift his eyebrows in sheer interest.

“We were, but things may change”.

“Honey, yer a hasty bastard. There was no need for this, but I like you even more now”.

The van in front of them left with a low rumble, and the both of them sharply turned around.

“Buckle up”, said Hanzo. There was something they needed to discuss, but it was a prize for another time. He grabbed the wheel and turned the lights on, hitting the accelerator pedal with all his strength.

The car jolted forward and McCree fell hard against the seat, one hand to hold his hat and the other grabbing the handle.

“Fuck! What are you…”

“I said buckle up for a reason”, and dear God, he wanted to laugh out of excitement, like a kid. The weapon dealers sped up, and Hanzo spotted a person in a black beanie looking out of the van’s window, then disappearing inside with frantic gestures. “We go get them”.

“Woah, that’s… insanely hot. No, sorry, ignore me – just…” He squirmed and fastened his seatbelt, just in time to avoid being thrown out the window by a particularly harsh turn. Hanzo grinned, eyes on the street, and dodged a parked car with a swift movement of his hands. The wind howled from the open windows and the van was still in sight. The narrow street coiled and slithered out of the docks and right into the urban area. The van slid on the ramp leading to the trafficked highway circling Gibraltar; a sprint on the left, the tires on the right side tilting up, and it managed to stay on its path.

Hanzo bared his teeth and accelerated some more, zigzagging among the other cars and their angry honking.

“Where did ya learn to drive like that?” McCree’s eyes, wide as tennis balls, jumped from the road to the driver, and for what Hanzo could see not without some appreciation.

“Consider it another thing not many know about me”, he replied, roughly turning the wheel to the right to take over a station wagon and getting immediately back into their lane. “Car races. A respectable hobby for the heir of a crime empire”.

“So full of surprises and –  _careful_!”

“I saw it, don’t worry”. He sounded calm and perfectly in control, even if under the surface his heart was still bouncing around. He dodged two more cars and got back behind the van. “I know what I’m doing”.

“Yeah, but I think they know it too”, and he pointed at their target. Under the orange streetlights, three figures leaped out of the back windows of the van. The long, narrow shapes in their hands left little to the imagination. Hanzo snarled and abruptly changed lane; the left rear-view mirror exploded in a rainfall of glass and plastic, and McCree cursed profusely.

“We gotta get them outta here”, he said, undoing his seatbelt and rolling Peacekeeper in his hand. “Somebody could get hurt”.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Just keep driving like the devil, darlin’. I can take care of them”. He leaned against the open window and anchored his prosthetic fingers to the roof, pulling himself up and out.

“McCree! What the fuck, come back inside!” He ducked as another load of bullets hit the car, breaking the front glass. He didn’t mind the accident at all, and extended his arm to get a grip on any part of McCree he could reach.

“Worry not, pretty thing, I got this!” And he winked. The motherfucker  _winked_ and smiled before climbing up on the roof of the car.

“Come back right now I said! It’s too dangerous! I can’t…”

“Last time I rode a train, this can’t be worse! Keep going nicely like this, ok?” he shouted over the clamor of horns.

One shot. The first mercenary fell from the van, and Hanzo didn’t even try to avoid him. He ran straight over him, and McCree shot again – twice, and a third time, and each bullet found its mark. One of the men was left dangling from the door, the other disappeared inside in an uncoordinated fall.

Laughter bubbled up in his throat. That was really impressive, and also fun in the most unhealthy way.

“Well done!” he yelled, giving McCree a thumb up through the window.

“You flatter me  _– turn right_!”

He wouldn’t have needed the urgent warning: the van took a sudden turn to the right, leaving the highway with another hurried slide. Hanzo grabbed the handbrake and pulled it so hard his shoulder ached; too late he remembered McCree was still perched on the roof, but the whine of metal just above his head erased his concerns. As the car ran down the highway exit, he glanced up and saw five holes in the metal, where McCree’s fingers had dug their way and were now holding steadily as if it was nothing.

“You’ll be the death of me”, he muttered, shaking his head to remove the hair from his face.

“ _Come on, faster_!”

Of all the wrong, out of place, inappropriate and distracting thoughts he could have had in such a dangerous situation, Hanzo made the abominable mistake of sticking to that last sentence and thinking about how much he would have enjoyed to hear it in a completely different setting. He gulped but his mouth felt dry, and only some forty years of absolute discipline let him stay focused on their chase instead of derailing along a path that showed clear pictures of McCree’s reddened face, bare chest and pleading eyes.

 _Not now_ , he said to himself, fidgeting on the seat. A thick, warm drop trailed down his cheek and he ignored it, giving back his whole attention to the – blessedly empty – secondary street.

The van was nearer now, and the car was doing its best to stay on its tail.

A thud from the roof startled him and he looked up to see McCree appear from the window.

“Honey, I don’t want to alarm you but this looks like a dead end road”.

Hanzo felt his brain work at maximum speed. It was risky, probably deadly, and yet…

“McCree, come back in. We’re ramming the van”, he deadpanned.

“What – alright, fine”. The metal fist clenched harder on the roof, tearing it apart. “I’m in”.

“I said come here! We’re going to hit them hard and…”

“Han, I said don’t worry. Just do it – now!”

No more time to think.

He wouldn’t have needed McCree’s warning because he could clearly see the wall approaching at an alarming speed in front of them. The van hit the brakes and stopped with a half-spin inches from the dead end, and the doors opened at once. Men with rifles, two carrying a huge submachine gun ready to fire.

Hanzo hissed and his arms tensed on the wheel, his foot landing hard on the pedal. For a split second he could see the absolute panic in the eyes of the mercenaries – they turned to look at each other with the unmistakable ‘he’s not doing it, right?’ look on their faces.

He didn’t stop. At the last moment he closed his eyes, and before the airbag exploded in his face a deafening bang shot through his bones.

Loud, red and black as the lightning of pain that ran through his collarbone and hip, where the safety belt dug deep after the impact, he felt his head smash against the headrest.

Adrenaline subsided in favor of confusion, mixed with a dull pain in his whole body. His face, buried in the airbag, burned like hell, and every breath scratched his throat.

No, not yet – he was a man on a mission, there was going to be time for a checkup later. Anyway, he thought as he peeled his hands from the steering wheel and sat back, his head still ringing from the crash, he was alive and reasonably well, even if he was sure that sticky thing on his face was blood. He closed his eyes for a second and let his mind clear just enough to realize the thump on the hood.

“You fine there, partner?”

McCree looked pale in the flashing lights, but as he jumped from the car, landing a bit unsteady on his feet by the driver’s door, Hanzo sighed in relief.

“Fine, yes”.

“You’re crazy as fuck”, he said, grabbing the handle and nearly tearing the door apart. Now that he could see it clearly, Hanzo noticed half of the roof was missing; there were long lines in the metal, where McCree’s hand had found a grip.

“And you’re not better than me”, he chuckled, exhilarated despite everything. He unbuckled - his rib cage and collarbones  _hurt_ \-  and turned to get his bow and arrows, still too excited to mind the compilation of pains in his whole body. Still, when he got off the car, he didn’t refuse McCree’s helping hand.

On the contrary: he let him pull him up and hold him a second longer than it was necessary.

“How was that? Just a recon mission, right?” McCree smiled, his thumb drawing soft circles on the back of Hanzo’s hand.

“I got carried away”, and maybe it was the shock from the car crash, but he felt his head light as a feather.

“’tis the most fun I’ve had in a while, darlin’. And…”

It happened so suddenly McCree didn’t even have time to turn around. The broken front light of their car showed a man stumbling out of the van, a gun in his hand. Hanzo reacted with the speed of a thought – he let go of McCree, fished an arrow from his quiver and shot.

A muffled cry joined the residual panting of the engine as the arrow nailed the mercenary’s hand to the wall behind him; the gun fell on the oil-stained ground, and Hanzo let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I was…”

McCree tipped his hat back and looked at the man whining behind him.

“That was a real good one. You have my thanks”.

“It was nothing, I just…” His knees gave way and he fell back against the car, something that made McCree lift his head in alarm and step closer. One big, gloved hand cupped Hanzo’s face  _– it shouldn’t feel this good, I must have hit my head harder than I thought_ – and a line of concern appeared between his eyebrows.

“Look at you, you’re wounded…”

“Nothing but a scratch, I’m… I’m fine”. A whisper, soft and warm and completely wrong. McCree bit his lip and brushed his boot on the ground, for once missing his quick, flirty replies, and Hanzo held his breath.  
  
He was close. So close, Hanzo could see his own reflection in those sweet dark eyes - and...

“ _Agents, your position”._

Jack Morrison’s rough voice growled from their comms, startling them. McCree dropped his hand and blinked fast, his eyes still locked with Hanzo’s.

“Hey. Hi, we’re here…”

“ _Where is_ here  _, McCree? Your GPS went off three minutes ago”._ He sounded something between worried and irritated, and Hanzo shivered deeply before he could summon an answer.

“Shimada here. We got the gang, but the operation required some unusual procedures”.

“ _You_ got  _them? Weren’t you supposed to just look?”_

“Yeah, we were, sorry. But those assholes tried to shot us and – you know me, man, I don’t like the idea of being shot”. McCree shrugged as if Jack could see him, and Hanzo smiled through the mist of exhaustion that started to thicken in his head.

“Second highway exit after the docks. The situation is under control, but we require a…”

“ _A transportation is on its way already, give it five minutes. Please, tell me at least one of them is still alive, we need to interrogate them_ ”, sighed Jack with the tired patience one would have reserved for a misbehaving kid.  
McCree turned to inspect the van; on his way he kicked the man nailed to the wall and loaded Peacekeeper before checking inside the crushed metal sheets.

“This one’s gone, and this one too – my fault. Ugh, man, that’s why they tell you to fasten your seatbelts, your head is bent the wrong way… oh, look, your friend’s still breathing”, and Hanzo saw him roll his gun in his fist and hit the last survivor with its grip. “Confirmed: there’s a grand total of two guys you can politely ask for information. Better than nothing”.

Jack sighed deeply, and Hanzo could imagine his stern, pale face as he ran his hand over his eyes and counted to three before replying.

_“Wait for Tracer. I’ll need your report as soon as you’re back”._

Silence fell upon the line, and Hanzo ran the back of his hand on his face – yes, there was a cut on his cheekbone, and the sting of glass shards peppered his forehead.

And then, slowly, it dawned on him.

“Tracer?” he said. “Wasn’t she having troubles with her chronal accelerator?”

McCree emerged from the van and put Peacekeeper back at his belt.

“What? Well, I suppose she got it fixed  _in no time_ ”, and he chuckled at his own pun. Hanzo shot him one of his hard looks, but his lips didn’t cooperate and curled up into a grin.

“You have the worst sense of humor ever, McCree, I…”

Their comms creaked again and they stood still and attentive. The sound that reached their ears, though, was not what they’d expected.

 _“… not what I meant! It had to be some kind of date!”_ Tracer’s voice was nervous, but not as much as Hana’s when she replied.

 _“I know, I know, they were not supposed to play the Xander Cage card, please, make sure they’re all in one piece when you take them back!”_   She sounded far away, as if she wasn’t speaking directly through the comm. Hanzo slowly turned to McCree and found him red-faced and as perplexed as him.

_“Anyway we have proof they make a great team, and maybe this time something happened between them. It was the perfect opportunity!”_ _  
_ _“Still better than Genji’s bluntness or Lúcio’s naive party idea…”_

_“Don’t worry, luv, we’ll find a way. Even if I’m to smash their stubborn heads together – they like each other and our plan is proceeding just fine. Next time they’ll go on a real date, you’ll see!”_

_“If they manage not to get killed in the meantime…”_

Hanzo’s mouth fell open and he looked away from McCree, his face once more on fire.

_“Gotta go now, I’m almost there. I’ll let you know if it looks like they kissed or something, ok?”_

_“Ok, later”._

Hanzo fumbled with his comm and snatched it from his ear, staring at it as if it was some alien monster.

“Did… did ya hear that?”

“No. Yes. I don’t understand and I don’t want to…”

“They’re tryina… you and I… I mean, not that I’d mind, you’re… it would be… you know…”

“McCree, you’re making things worse”, he moaned. The man he’d shot moaned back and they both turned to him. “ _Shut up_!” they snapped, and the mercenary fell quiet again.

The whole thing was scaringly clear: Jack’d left his comm on and Hana walked in. But most importantly, she and Lena (and apparently Lúcio and that plague of his brother) were plotting to…

“Us. Together”, he gasped. Had he been so obvious? And why was McCree as embarrassed as him?

“Yeah, you… you think it would be weird, right?” He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

No, it was not weird, it was a dream. And dreams didn’t come true – nightmares often did, but it was a whole different story. Hanzo desperately needed something to say, or maybe a nice crevasse he could jump into, disappearing from the world, but the flash of the helicarrier above them spared him further shame.

“We need to confront them”, he managed to blurt out, looking up at the huge dark shape approaching them.

“Indeed – all of them”, McCree agreed. “Maybe once we’re back at Watchpoint?”

“I…”

In the blinding white light, McCree looked even more imposing, his serape fluttering around his shoulders and that insufferable sweet gaze in his eyes.

Beyond anger and outrage, deep down under layers of wounded pride and adult common sense, Hanzo sighed.

It was something more than a crush.

“You’re right. We need time to calm down, this nonsense is… well, that’s it.  _Nonsense_ ”.

It was a blatant lie and a stab right to his heart, but what else could he do? Admit here and now that yes, he was attracted to him, and yes, he’d sell his soul to the devil for something as trivial as a date – as a chance?

Bitterness settled back in his stomach and he turned his back to McCree, limping to the helicarrier now landing at the entrance of the alley.

“Let’s go. We have more pressing matters at hand”.

_And I need to have a word with my brother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just FYI the working title for this thing was "McHanzo Disaster Date". I'm pretty sure you can see why.  
> Dogs in fiction make me really emotional. Dogs in real life even more so. And in general DOGS.  
> As usual, a huge THANK YOU to y'all lovely souls for validating me. U cute.


	5. Chapter 5

McCree hated the whole trip back to the base. Good thing it was short, because he couldn’t decide what was worse: Lena’s carefree chattering, Hanzo’s brooding, or his own barely concealed nervousness.

Reaching the base and undergoing the whole debriefing process was even more of a nightmare, because suffering Jack and Ana’s scolding (“It was a recon mission!” “But we _did_ get the infos we needed! And stopped a cargo of weapons to be delivered while we were at it!” “… alright, but you risked your lives!”) was bad enough on its own; add up Hanzo’s fierce blushing and how he seemed unable to look him in the eye, and boom! The perfect recipe for a rather unpleasant evening.

When they left the meeting room, McCree felt exhausted, and not merely from the night’s adventures. Hanzo, at his side, sported a very suggestive red streak down his face and a couple of scratches on his cheekbone and forehead. Hands sunk in his pockets, he walked stiff, and McCree thought it didn’t depend on the car crash alone.

Still…

“Darlin’, you look pretty battered”, he said meekly, resisting the urge to put a hand on his shoulder. Hanzo didn’t turn to him and snorted in the empty hallway.

“No need to worry, but thank you for your concern”.

“No, really, you should see Angela, it’s…”

A green glow appeared in front of them, and McCree felt Hanzo tense even before he saw him raise his head and shot his brother a furious look.

“There’s somebody else I should see right now”, he growled, clenching his fists and walking faster to the innocent-looking cyborg ninja in front of them.

“Hanzo, wait…”, but it was too late. McCree stood motionless as his companion reached Genji in long, enraged steps.

“Hi there, brother! Lena told me you two had quite the night, and… hey, what’s…”

“Shut up”. Hanzo grabbed his arm and dragged him along, ignoring Genji’s protests and questions.

“But what did I…”

“I said shut up and come with me. Now!”, and he pulled his kicking brother along, disappearing behind the nearest corner.

McCree was thus left alone, standing in the middle of the dark corridor with the only company of the flickering neons above his head. He let out a long sigh and snatched the hat from his head. His left shoulder was sore from the wild ride on the car’s roof, and he was pretty sure there were a dozen bruises here and there on his body, but right now his main concern was the mysterious plan Hana and Lena were talking about.

_Alright, man. Time to get shit done._

He pressed his hat back on his shaggy hair and straightened his back.

“Athena?”

“Yes, agent McCree”.

“I’m goin’ back to my place, and I know it’s pretty late, but could you please send Lena, Hana and Lúcio there, if they’re still awake?”

“Agent Song is currently having tea with agent Vaswani; agent Dos Santos and…”

“Ok, ok, that’s fine. Could you bother them for me? It’s – well, not an emergency, but I have to talk to them”.

“They will join you in less than five minutes. Do you require any further assistance?”

“Uh – no, thank you, I…”

“If you’re to discuss tonight’s mission I suggest you check my logs”.

“No, it’s something else, don’t worry. Why do you ask?” A vague sense of suspect started to crawl up his skin, and he squinted at the ceiling, as if the AI was there.

“This is what I was programmed for. The agents are on their way”.

“Yeah, sure. Thank you, Athena”, and he waved at the empty air, walking back to his quarters.

His three young companions joined him when he was still taking his tattered serape off.

The soft slide of Lúcio ’s rollerblades startled him, and as he turned to the door he found him standing there, with Lena and Hana behind him. They all sported the most innocent faces ever, and McCree cocked an eyebrow.

“Hey there, Jesse! What’s up, man?” Lúcio smiled at his brightest and winked.

“We need to talk. Get in and close the door, would you?” He knew how serious he sounded, and how unusual that look was on his face; he was not disappointed when he saw the two girls exchange a nervous gaze.

“Are you alright?” asked Hana, sitting on the edge of his bed. Lena dropped at her side, and only Lúcio was left standing, a bit perplexed.

“Yeah, thank you kindly. But…” He placed Peacekeeper on the nightstand and put his hands on his hips, looking down at his friends with a sneer. “Girls, next time you’re to discuss your undercover ops, make sure you’re not being listened to”.

“What do you… oh. Shit”. Lena covered her mouth with her hand and blushed a nice shade of pink. Hana frowned and shook her head, impassible.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, she said, bearing McCree’s stare as if it was nothing. The steel in that tiny girl never failed to amaze him, but he tried not to be impressed.

“Your comm was on when you”, and he gestured at Lena with his head, “were coming to pick us up. So we heard everything – about your wicked idea, your accomplices and so on”.

Lúcio was the first to surrender. He lowered his head and looked up to McCree with his insufferable puppy eyes, young and gentle enough to make his (amused) anger deflate.

“So… so you know it?”

“I do, and Hanzo, too. I fear he hasn’t taken it as gracefully, tho”.

“This explains the angry Japanese yelling I heard passing in front of his room…” he mumbled, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

“Jesse, I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to do anything behind your back, it’s just that…”

“Ok, _fine_ ”. Hana interrupted Lena and stood up, facing McCree with the same stern posture. She was small but fearless, and on her round face there was none of her two friends’ guilt. “Yeah, we did it. We tried to set you up with Hanzo because you two nerds clearly have a thing for each other, but you’re too dumb to do anything about it”.

McCree laughed his tension away and averted his gaze, glad he’d taken the too warm serape off already.

“You’re dreaming, sweetie. Hanzo doesn’t have a crush on me – I mean, _I_ don’t have a…”

“Please, cowboy”. Lena stood up and walked to him; her chronal accelerator shone blue under her t-shirt. “You’re right, we were probably nosy, but we know you like our archer. And he likes you back!”

“No he doesn’t”.

“So you’re saying _you_ do!”

“Hana, stop it, come on!” He tried to brush the matter away, but those three pairs of attentive eyes on him were relentless. “That’s not the point. Your timey thing was working perfectly fine today, right, Lena?”

“It… it was. And I know lying is wrong, but it was for a good cause!”  
  
“What good cause? It’s not like we went on a date!” He replied, opening his arms in exasperation. “What else did you do?”

“We changed the shifts to Volskaya’s mission so you two could be together”, said Hana raising her hand.

“That too?” he blurted out, repressing a grin at the memory of Hanzo curled around him.

“And maybe I took a couple of detours to give you some more time together”, added Lena.

“I’m innocent of any wrongdoing – I just suggested Hana brought Hanzo at Fareeha’s birthday so you two could hang out or something”. Lúcio crossed his arms and smiled, a bit apologetically.

McCree moaned and fell on his bed face-first.

“I can’t believe a bunch of kids is tryina take care of my romantic life…”

“Since you seem unable to do so, someone has to”. Lena huffed and McCree looked up at her to see her smile. “You could be happy together”.

“This is ridiculous, I…”

A sharp knock on the door made them all turn around.

“Half of Overwatch’s already here, so… yeah, come in”, said McCree without standing up. Athena opened the door to reveal Genji, his head low and a small indenture on his faceplate.

At his sight, McCree sat on the bed and tilted his head.

“Dude, what happened to your face?”

“My brother slashed it in half ten years ago – oh, right, that’s not what you meant”. He walked in and leaned against the door, now closed behind him. “Hanzo was pissed off for the whole ‘let’s get you two on a date’ thing. He... threw his phone at me”.

“Damn, he was pissed for real”. Lúcio approached him and gave him a clinical check. “Are you alright?”

Genji took his mask off and inspected it with a shrug.

“Yeah, safe and sound. I got the best of it – you should’ve seen his phone!” He sighed and gave McCree a crooked grin. “You’re not mad at me too, are you?”

McCree sighed again. He was not exactly angry, more extremely nervous and embarrassed – and on top of that, hopeful. Because that band of brats was right: he was head over heels for Hanzo, and it clearly was not a secret anymore, but making the first move made him painfully anxious. He’d managed to weave something similar to a friendship with the archer, breaching through his walls of sorrow and regret, and he didn’t intend to ruin anything. It might very well be the closest they would ever be, and he couldn’t stand the idea of losing Hanzo.

“… because I want you to know that I was dragged into this plan, it was not my idea and…”

“Genji! You’re part of the team and you agreed to help us!” Lena sounded deeply offended.

“I know, but I just got a phone right in my face, with the soundtrack of my brother howling a whole terabyte worth of insults at me! I’m fragile!”

“You’re not fragile, you’re a spoilsport!” Hana stomped her feet on the floor, and Lúcio put his hand on her shoulder, calming her down.

“Come on guys, I was just trying to make things lighter, ok?” Genji fidgeted with his faceplate, accurately avoiding to look at McCree. “Fine, I’m part of it too, but…”

Another knock on the door, more like a boom that made Genji jump and swiftly turn around.

“Agent Shimada – the _other_ agent Shimada – seems to be requiring your attention”, said Athena, and McCree was sure the AI sounded way more enthusiastic than he deemed normal for such an artificial construct.

The group fell silent under a stream of tension. McCree got off the bed and absent-mindedly brushed the front of his shirt.

“Let him in”, he said, wishing his voice didn’t sound so full of expectations.

When the door opened, though, the stern eyes looking at him made his emotions shift to a more worried path. Hanzo was there, his face clean of blood and a small band-aid on his left cheekbone. He flared his nostrils just like a dragon ready to breathe fire, and his fists were clenched at his sides; he could’ve been simply furious, hadn’t it been for the glorious blush up his throat and jaws.

“Out”, he snarled.

“I thought you were here to apologize! You and your fucking phone…”

“I said _out_. All four of you”, and he pointed his index finger at the corridor. McCree felt his heart shrink and flutter, in a curious mixture of anxiety and pure joy at the sight of the man he most definitely had a crush on.

“Gotcha!” Lena was the first to react; she simply blinked away and disappeared, followed closely by a very disgruntled Genji.

“Ungrateful blood of my blood”, he muttered, but at Hanzo’s killer stare he grinned like an imp and bolted away, leaving a trail of green lights behind him. Lúcio was left there, looking at Hanzo and then at Hana with increasing panic.

“Alright, alright. But try to be productive”, said the girl, jumping piggyback on Lúcio and taking him by surprise. “Come on, what are you waiting for?” and with a grin she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“At your service, madam”, he laughed, and in the blink of an eye they too slid out of McCree’s room.

Which left him in the stressful and 100% extremely meaningful situation of being alone with Hanzo.

In his bedroom.

_This ain’t like I imagined this thing goin’, but who am I to complain?_

He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled, and all his plans of looking charming crashed against the desperate heartbeat in his ears.

“Howdy, partner?” he said, a bit louder than necessary.

“Shut up now and let me speak, ok?”

“O-Ok”, he stuttered, taken aback by the harsh and yet kind of shaky command. Hanzo massaged his temples with two fingers and frowned, eyes on the floor.

“This is ridiculous, but… but there’s only one way to put an end to this nonsense”. He let his arms fall to his sides and looked up at McCree, and dear God, he was _adorable_. Not that it was something one could say to Hanzo Shimada – the proudest, sternest member of Overwatch and probably the most stubborn person in the whole world didn’t look like he could appreciate being called ‘adorable’ – but McCree couldn’t stop the thought from forming in his mind. Flustered, with those lovely eyes of fire that couldn’t meet his own, he snorted and swallowed. McCree sighed softly at the movement up and down his long throat, but didn’t say a word.

“I tried to talk Genji out of it but it d-didn’t end well. And I’m not very good with words, anyway, so…” He cleared his throat and finally looked at McCree. “It’s not a date, but we should go out once so they’re happy and then tell them it didn’t work and they’ll stop annoying us and we can gobacktoourliveswhatdoyouthink?”

Hanzo, beside being beet red, spoke so fast McCree could barely grasp his words, and yet…

His eyebrows traveled up his forehead.

“Yer… askin’ me out?”

“It’s _not_ a date”, he repeated stubbornly, a tiny crack in his voice.

_And what if it works?_

A giant grin stretched his lips. McCree didn’t dare to approach Hanzo, but he’d very much have liked to hug him and lift him in the air.

“Sounds fine to me. I – er – I promise it’s gonna be a pleasant evening, just in case…”

“Tomorrow. Be ready at 7 pm”, and he turned on his heels, storming out of the room in heavy steps. McCree nearly floated from the bubble of incredulous happiness in his belly, and roused from his stupor a moment too late. He covered the distance to the door and peeked outside.

Hanzo was almost running down the corridor, and McCree enjoyed a brief moment of broad shoulders and muscular arms and golden ribbon dancing with every step before his enthusiasm got the best of him.

“I’m takin’ you somewhere nice, darlin’!”

“I said _it’s not a date_!”

“If you say so…”

McCree retreated into his room, and as soon as the door closed behind his back he punched the air in blissful excitement.

“Holy fucking shit _yeah_!” he hissed, falling seated on the floor and throwing his head back against the door.

He was tired from the mission, it was late night and he knew he had to be at least a bit angry with Lena and the others for their trick, but honestly?

He was going to take Hanzo Shimada out for dinner.

And that counted as a date.

 

 

By 5 PM, McCree was already hysterical with anticipation. He’d showered twice and briefly considered to shave, then changed his mind and spent half an hour rummaging through his closet and its collection of old t-shirts and tattered jeans. It was half past six when his door opened without his consent, showing Genji leaning to the doorframe.

“You look like a teen at his first crush”, he chuckled behind his mask.

“Not so far from the truth, dude. I haven’t been a teen for almost twenty years, but I honestly can’t remember the last time I went on a date”, he grumbled. _Especially with someone as gorgeous as your brother_ , but he didn’t say the words out loud. In his jeans, socks and nothing else he stood up and pouted. “I can’t even remember how one’s supposed to dress up for a night out…”

“Knowing my brother, he’d probably appreciate you just like you are”, and he gestured at McCree broad, hairy chest, all dark skin and pale scars. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you”.

“But I want to make a good impression!”

“Mate, you already have”. He moved from the door and picked the first thing he could set his fingers on, a red checkered shirt McCree’d discarded as ‘too casual’. “Hanzo’s known you for months now, and he likes you. In any possible meaning of the term”. He threw him the shirt and McCree caught it before it hit his face.

“Do you really think so?” he asked, sliding his prosthetic arm through the sleeve and not hiding the hint of concern in his eyes. Genji smiled – he couldn’t see his face, but he knew what that small tilt of his head meant – and clapped his shoulder.

“I know what I’m talking about, Jesse. My brother’s an awkward social tragedy, if he asked you out…”

“He said it’s not a date”, he moaned. “I mean, for me it is!”

“Same for him. Expect him to be as nervous as you, but remember: he wouldn’t have asked you if he wasn’t interested. Trust me”.

“Yeah, I sure hope yer right”, and he proceeded to button his shirt up. It stretched on his shoulders and chest, but not so much on his stomach – after all he wasn’t that bad yet. “I have no idea where to put my gun…”

“Dirty jokes aside”, and Genji poked him in the side, making him giggle, “you usually don’t take weapons – or cowboy hats, or _spurs_ \- on a romantic date. Forget that and focus on having a good time”.

Ten minutes later he was standing outside Watchpoint: Gibraltar, sweating in his shirt. He undid the two top buttons and breathed a bit more easily, but his heart was still racing. He silently prayed, among drags from his cigarillo, that Lena, Lúcio or Hana wouldn’t show up with their unrequired assistance, because at the moment he was nervous enough on his own. Genji’d been of some help, but that was enough.

A flock of unwanted thoughts swarmed through his head.

_Maybe he won’t come. Maybe I’ll mess things up. I shouldn’t have smoked. Why am I wearing the same boots as yesterday? I have no idea where to take him. Oh, bloody hell I should’ve planned this ahead._

But then the door of the hangar opened with a clang, and McCree looked up.

Hanzo stood on the threshold, and he was an absolute vision. Hair loose on his shoulders, dark slacks embracing his hips, a black button-down with its sleeves rolled up to show those impressive forearms and open on his chest just enough to let McCree bask in the sight of his cleavage and collarbones – McCree’s formerly crowded mind went in full blue screen and he couldn’t move.

When he looked up, Hanzo cracked a tiny smile the moment his eyes met McCree’s.

Flashes of words danced in his head.

_Lookin’ mighty fine, darlin’._

_And by ‘mighty fine’ I mean ‘yer so pretty I wanna cry’._

_Or maybe send those buttons on the floor and kiss you senseless._

_And everything else._

_Oh no I’m lookin’ at him as if he was naked._

_Now I’m thinkin’ about him naked._

_I’m fucked._

“… wow”, he exhaled in the end, feeling as dumb as a rock. Hanzo walked down the stairs to join him, tucked a long, black strand behind his ear and looked up.

“You are early”.

“Well, yeah. You too…”

“I always am. And – er – you look good”, and he immediately looked away, his face deliciously red. McCree bit his lip and threw his cigar away, fighting the impulse to reach forward and take him in his arms. Not like that, not yet at least – he didn’t want to make a wrong move and spoil everything.

“Thank you, sugarplum. Shall we go? I tried to ask Torb for a car or something, but he was still upset about yesterday’s accident and said we don’t deserve anythin’ more refined than a bicycle”.

As they walked the steep path that led into town, Hanzo laughed softly.

“We’d make quite a sight to behold, strolling through Gibraltar on bike”.

_Yer the most amazing sight ever, Hanzo, but how can I tell you without sounding weird?_

“We’ll be hungry as hell once we get in town, and…”

“No fancy places, please. I… I just want something easy, ok?”

“Whatever you want, honey”, and McCree grinned inside as he recorded how Hanzo hadn’t insisted on their date not being a date. “Anyway, no Stormbow?”

“No”, he grunted, sinking his hands in his pockets and kicking a pebble on the dusty road. “Hana said it was inappropriate for a night like this. Not t-that it has to mean anything, but…”

_… but you agreed with her and didn’t bring your weapons_. Hope fluttered in his heart, but for now he was content to just enjoy their walk.

“Don’t worry, sunshine, it’s gonna be a lazy evening all for ourselves, and there’s no reason we shouldn’t enjoy it or think anything will fuck things up”.

As he spoke them, the words seemed to cast a shadow on the bright, warm Mediterranean sunset. But then again, Hanzo was walking at his side, maybe a little bit too close than he’d expected, and he was happy already.

 

 

McCree hadn’t been on a date in ages indeed, but sitting in a corner table in that small restaurant facing the sea was a blessing on its own. The room buzzed quietly with the chattering of a dozen other customers, and he simply couldn’t take his eyes off Hanzo. His stomach had been grumbling for the last half an hour, and yet now that the plate in front of him tempted him with a huge steak and a bunch of fries, he just didn’t care.

Hanzo took a sip of water and looked up at him from the fall of his hair, cocking an eyebrow but saying nothing. Still, McCree didn’t miss the light tilt of his lips and crinkle of his eyes.

His heart bounced to his throat.

_Fuck my life, I’m in love._

“This might be the longest you’ve ever been without saying a word”, said the archer, stealing a fry from his plate. McCree straightened his back and laughed nervously.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just that I… er…”

Hanzo was right, and he was an idiot. How could it be that just twenty-four hours before they were chatting and exposing each other’s hearts so easily, and now he could barely speak?

He fidgeted in his chair and cleared his throat, trying not to ruffle the hair on the back of his neck and looking away from Hanzo. An elderly couple on the nearby table smiled at him and went back to their dinner.

He had to say something. Or _do_ something, or whatever, because as he turned his eyes back on Hanzo he felt he could have died otherwise. Hanzo’s hand was just within reach, his long fingers drumming quietly on the white tablecloth.

“Listen, Han, I… alright, let’s get things clear”. He gathered all his courage and extended his arm, placing his hand on Hanzo’s and holding his breath. The archer gasped and flushed, eyes wide and his lips parting slowly. He didn’t move, but McCree wasn’t sure if it was for the shock or because he did appreciate the gesture. Just in case, he shook his head and took a deep breath, ready for The Conversation.

“I know you insisted this is nothing, but it would be hypocritical to keep my mouth shut about it”. He slowly folded his fingers under Hanzo’s palm, and found some comfort in realizing he was not the only one sweating. “Truth is, I like you. I really do, and I was _this_ close to telling you yesterday ‘cause it seemed like the perfect time, but then shit happened. It’s ok if it’s not reciprocated, I’ll understand it, but I couldn’t pretend this was just a façade”.

Not a word from Hanzo, who was still staring at him completely dumbstruck. McCree wished he could decipher anything on his face, but the more he stared, the more anxiety sizzled in his stomach. Hunger was far gone, as were his courage and self-confidence.

He swallowed and hunched over a bit, overwhelmed by the silence.

“Please say something”, he whimpered in vain.

_Well that’s it, McCree. Welcome to your latest sentimental disaster: you’ve been wrong all along, everyone’s been wrong, and now Hanzo probably hates you._

He closed his eyes and, with a heavy heart, slowly moved his hand back.

The sudden grip on his fingers brought him back from his inner world of disappointment. He opened his eyes wide and held his breath. Hanzo was looking at him, incredulous and terribly serious; the hand around his own was strong but also shaky, as the low whisper that fell from those lovely lips.

“Really?”

A great huff of air turned into a muffled laughter. He shook his head and looked down at their clasped hands, the most unexpected, wonderful surprise he could have hoped for.

“… are you serious? Yeah, _really_! I… I thought it was pretty clear, I did my best to try and flirt with you on any given occasion!”

“B-But I thought it was just your… your _McCreeness_! You’re kind to everyone, I supposed…”

“Hanzo, no. I like you” _and something more_ “and I spent months sure you only suffered me, but this”, and he raised their hands, “is something else. Or am I reading the signs wrong?”

“N-No, you’re not”, he confessed, bending his head over his plate but still clinging to McCree. And for all he’d been through, his years in Deadlock and then in Blackwatch, the fall and rise of Overwatch, his past on the run, McCree felt indeed like a teen. He couldn’t but smile breathless, running his thumb on Hanzo’s hand.

A soft, high-pitched chuckle at his left caught his attention, and with some struggle he looked away from Hanzo to the couple at the nearest table. As her husband chomped on his salad, the old lady – with cotton candy-like white air and piercing blue eyes – shot him a tender look. McCree felt happiness shine through his skin and turned back to Hanzo, only to find he’d regained a more dignified position. His eyes, though, were still sparkling, his cheeks as pink as before.

“Our… dinner is getting cold”, he muttered, shifting his hand to better fit in in McCree’s palm.

“Honey, I couldn’t care less about food right now…”

_I want to kiss you and find out if your beard tickles, and if you have to stand on your toes to kiss me back, and every other silly and romantic thing you could think of._

Hanzo sighed loudly and perched his head on his free hand, looking sideways at McCree. His smile sealed that warm link between them, and McCree got lost in his eyes.

He knew he looked like a fool – like a hopelessly in love fool – and it felt too good to be true. Even the growing urgency frustrating him was something to be savoured, knowing that it was just a matter of minutes before he could take Hanzo in his arms and never let him go.

The crash of plates startled them, and McCree was about to turn around, expecting to see the waiter excuse himself and pick up the mess, but the steely grip on his fingers blocked him. Hanzo’s face turned to stone, and the sensation of impending danger froze his blood.

“Everyone, hands on the tables and don’t move!” shouted an angry voice from the entrance.

“We know they’re here, so behave and no one gets hurt”, added a second man; a gunshot exploded in the air, and the crash of glass from the shattered chandelier added up to the screams of the customers.

McCree slowly slid his prosthetic hand on the table and wrapped his fingers on the knife, cursing inwardly at the thought of Peacekeeper, safe and shiny on his nightstand.

Hanzo did the same, head low and shirt stretching on his shoulders as he prepared himself to act. A small but very persistent part of McCree’s attention was drawn to the precarious conditions of Hanzo’s buttons on his chest, but it was not the time for such distractions. In the reflection behind his archer’s head he could see a group of people dressed in black, and even if they bore no sign of any known crime syndication, he was absolutely sure they had something to do with the weapon dealers of the day before.

“I’m so gonna kick their asses”, he growled under his breath, and Hanzo didn’t reply, except for a fleeting squeezing of his hand.

First, there was the whole ‘innocent civilians caught in the crossfire of a criminal group looking for two wanted men’ thing; second, but not less important, he was on a _date_. And he didn’t let anyone ruin his dates.

All around them people were crying and begging softly; two of the armed men walked down the restaurant and stopped by McCree’s table. As the first, gun in hand and a black scarf wrapped around his face, waited by the old couple – now pale and shaking – the second one stooped over Hanzo.

“Well well, what have we here”, he grumbled. Nor Hanzo or McCree turned to look at him, their senses alert and every muscle ready to shot in action, but then a big gloved hand slammed on their table. “You two! _You_ were the ones who spoiled our business yesterday, and it’s time for you to pay”. He rose the gun he was carrying, but before he could search for the trigger McCree moved. He lifted his fist and firmly planted the knife in the man’s hand, the piercing scream covering the clash of chairs as Hanzo too bolted on his feet.

McCree was a dirty fighter, trained to take advantage of his opponent’s weakness even before Reyes’ intervention. He snatched the knife from the enemy’s hand and sunk it deep into the exposed slice of throat over his kevlar’s jacket. Blood spurted on his hand, but he didn’t stop to check the result of his actions; he just kicked the man back against two other customers, and their shrieks counterpointed the rain of bullets that sent the glasses into shards.

More screams, and he turned to see Hanzo kick another assailant full in the mouth; blood and saliva and a couple of teeth flew in the air, but the next one, right behind his fallen companion, pointed his gun toward the archer.

“Not so fast, you piece of shit!” he roared. The metal and wooden chair was nothing for his prosthetic arm; he snatched it and tossed it in the air, and the way Hanzo ducked without even bothering to look said a lot about how well they worked together. A good hit, but not a definitive one, because the man huffed and doubled forward, only to surge again with his gun pointed – no, not at McCree, nor at Hanzo. The small old lady shrunk even more on her seat and her husband put his hands forward.

“Please, please, not my Amanda, she’s…”

His words turned into a moan when the man punched him in the head.

McCree’d been angry already. This was definitely too much.

While Hanzo battled two more enemies in a whirlwind of kicks and punches, apparently dancing among the gunshots as if he was immune to bullets, McCree flipped the table and stalked the two jerks impending on the old pair.

“Hands in the air, you son of a bitch, or…”

He never knew how that man intended to finish his sentence. His metal hand grabbed his wrist and bent it upwards with a crunch of broken bones; his opponent yelled, and then not anymore when McCree pressed his finger on the trigger. A fountain of blood sprayed from the pierced throat, and McCree immediately stood before the old lady – Amanda, now gently cradling her husband in her arms. The man was weeping softly, a trail of blood running from his nose.

“’m sorry, dear lady. We’ll tryna make things alright”, another mercenary charged at him, pale and shocked. McCree closed his left fist and hit him hard in the face. Bones and cartilage bent and shattered under his knuckles, and the man fell flat on his back, motionless. “As I was sayin’, we’re tryina solve this mess in no time”.

Two more men were still standing, and one had got the best of Hanzo. He blocked his arms behind his back and held him still, while his companion pointed his rifle at his head.

McCree froze in place, and his eyes scanned the floor. A good number of bodies, at various degrees of deadness, were scattered all around. There were weapons he could put his hands on, but Hanzo required immediate assistance.

Or so he thought. In the blink of an eye, the archer lifted his legs, kicking his opponent’s rifle away and then hunching over. The man holding him, caught off guard, rolled over his back; with a sharp movement of his thick arms, Hanzo threw him on the ground and unabashedly stepped on his face – twice, for good measure.

“Your boyfriend is really something else”, said Amanda, patting her husband’s back. In her arms, the old man had calmed a bit. McCree blinked as Hanzo grabbed the last man’s arm and hit his elbow with his knee, fast as a snake. The rifle fell to the ground, but before it hit the floor another creaking of broken bones echoed under the muffled sounds of the shocked customers. Hands on both sides of his head, Hanzo squeezed and gave an abrupt turn of his wrists. The man’s neck snapped and he slumped on the floor with his other friends.

McCree tried to answer.

_He’s not my boyfriend._

_Not yet, at least._   
_  
Maybe?_

But then he noticed it – Hanzo’s shirt was open halfway down his torso, showing an expanse of taut muscles and blood stains. He swallowed and nodded, his heart drumming in his chest and not just from the fight.

“He… he is…”, he whispered. Hanzo turned to look at him, and his eyes were completely dark, his pupils blown. Something stirred under McCree’s belt, and he took a shaky breath.

“Go kiss him before the police comes”, shakingly added Amanda, tucking at his sleeve. He looked down at her, with her soft white air and gentle wrinkles; she seemed oddly unbothered by the chaos. His shirt too was ripped on his shoulders, but right now he didn’t care.

The lady’s words seeped through his confusion and he shook his head. Police? Bad news.

“Yeah, good idea. Sorry ‘bout the turmoil, I sure hope you two will be fine soon enough”, and he tried to tip the hat he’d left at home. He jumped over the bodies – one was still moaning, and he kicked his gun away – and reached Hanzo, holding out his hand.

“You alright, darlin’?”

He looked so, panting and sweaty but steady on his feet. When he reached out and took his hand, though, a light blush appeared on his cheeks.

“I am, thank you…” Hanzo smiled, and McCree, despite the whole chaos they were in, beamed. His smile reflected the one on the other man’s face, but vanished in a moment. “Is anyone hurt?”

McCree let go of his hand and checked out the restaurant. Tables flipped, chairs scattered all around, broken windows, but only Amanda’s husband seemed to be lightly wounded.

“Someone should call an ambulance, just in case”, he said to the crowd, but the red and blue flashing lights that flickered in the distance were an alarming sight. Under the howling of sirens he turned back to Hanzo.

“These are the cops”, he said, still giggly from the excitement. Amusement appeared back in Hanzo’s eyes.

“You’re a wanted man”.

“So are you”.

“We should go, then”.

McCree bowed to him with swift courtesy and offered him his arm.

“After you, my dear”, and when Hanzo laughed and slid his hand in the crook of his elbow he could have exploded from happiness. They walked past the chaos and to the back door under the shocked looks of the customers, and as the police approached the restaurant Hanzo stopped abruptly.

“Wait!” He took a step back and took his wallet from the pocket of his pants. “We didn’t pay for the dinner”, and he left some bills on the nearby empty table.

“And the tip”, added McCree, doing the same. The cars in the front parking lot came to a halt, and their doors slammed. The dark shapes of the cops, silhouetted by the front lights, were running closer, and they indeed had to run away. Hanzo reached the door, but McCree stopped him on the threshold grabbing his arm.

“One last thing”. He leaned close and planted a quick kiss on Hanzo’s lips. Too quick and definitely not enough, but the astonished smile spreading on the other’s face suggested him it was the right move. He tasted the kiss a second longer and pulled back, winking. “Ok, let’s go”.

Speechless, his mouth still slightly open, Hanzo shuddered and nodded. A smile sparkled in his eyes.

And away they went, running hand in hand through Gibraltar alleys, far from the police and their own past, together.

 

They were good at hiding, having spent the last decade on the run from meaner folks than the law abiding people now too busy checking on the wrecked restaurant. A handful of minutes spent darting through the streets, his hand wrapped tight around Hanzo’s, and McCree still couldn’t believe his own happiness.

Hanzo liked him back. And no matter if bad luck kept on getting in their way, this was true.

Every now and then he turned to check his partner, always meeting a quick smile full of meanings.

_I’m a lucky bastard._

Eventually, even the last of the city lights faded in the distance. McCree slowed his pace as they entered a dark alley, smelling faintly of seaweed and damp dust. His lungs ached and his face burned from the run; he left Hanzo’s hand and doubled over, his palms on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Hanzo hit the brick wall with his shoulders, head thrown back and a low, panting chuckle ringing through the air.

“We’re… we’re too old for this”, he said, and McCree huffed and looked at him – tousled hair and open button-down and chest heaving with every labored breath.

He was perfect.

McCree straightened up and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I swear, honey, this was not what I had in mind for our first _definitely-not-a-date_ …”

“It was unanticipated to say the least”, agreed Hanzo, throwing his hair back. His laugh died in a deep silence, but this time McCree didn’t let his doubts have the best of him. He walked to the wall and leaned back at Hanzo’s side, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Well, this sure makes your blood run, doesn’t it?”

It was meant as a joke, a light-hearted remark to get a grip on their previous conversation. But now Hanzo looked serious, his sharp profile standing out in the darkness. McCree frowned, but he had no time to ask if anything was wrong.

Hanzo spoke in a calm, clear voice.

“Do you mean it turned you on?”

_Fuck yeah_!, immediately rejoiced the most primal part of McCree’s being, with the significant contribution from the pulse rising from his groin.

_Well, yes, actually_ , added his brain, showing him a very detailed inner PowerPoint presentation including Hanzo’s chest and his lips, his thighs and arms and everything else.

“I… I… fuck, pumpkin, I was just tryin’ to say…”

“Because that’s what _I_ mean”. He abruptly turned around, and McCree registered the hungry light in his eyes; when Hanzo’s hands cupped his face and pulled him down in a hungry kiss, though, he gave up thinking altogether. He slid his arms around the other man’s waist and lifted him up, pressing the hot, hard body against his own with a deep moan.

_This_ was a kiss – a real one, not just the appetizer of a few minutes ago. Hanzo was eager, his tongue wet and slick, his lips soft but demanding. McCree opened his mouth and welcomed every sweep of tongue on his own, on his bottom lip, drinking in the quickened breaths escaping from Hanzo’s throat. A strong hand crawled behind his neck and sunk in his hair, grabbing and pulling his head back hard enough to make him yelp; Hanzo peppered a trail of kisses along his jawline – a nip at his earlobe, a bite on his neck.

Perhaps some moderation could have been advised, but when Hanzo rocked his hips and McCree perceived the erection straining the fly of his pants, his brain short-circuited. He grabbed a handful of firm ass and squeezed it, capturing Hanzo’s mouth in another heated kiss.

A large hand trailed down his neck and chest, and then some more; Hanzo untucked the shirt from his pants, and McCree felt the enthusiastic leap of anticipation from his dick as those skilled fingers raked down his stomach.

He wanted him, and he wanted him _now_ , even if it was rushed and probably dangerous, and most of all hardly feasible. Making out in a dark alley, so aroused the whole world didn’t exist anymore? He’d been barely twenty the last time it had happened, and all those years of smothered fire came back roaring with increased intensity as Hanzo slid his fingers under his belt.

All that fabric in the way was unbearable. McCree forcefully searched for a way to Hanzo’s back, fumbling with his button-down and stifling a sigh against the other man’s tongue when his fingertips finally met soft skin and the steel of muscles underneath. Hanzo gasped on his mouth, muttering something he couldn’t understand and sucking at his lip with a shiver.

It was good – no, it was more than good, and McCree’s knees felt like jelly when Hanzo dipped his hand further down in his underwear and stroked his raging erection – and yet it was not enough. He wanted to touch, to bite and lick and kiss every inch of that gorgeous body, to feel their skin go sweaty and hot with friction. He circled Hanzo’s waist with one hand, letting the other go up to grab a handful of silky black hair – yes, his beard tickled as he’d imagined, and he was addicted to the sensation already.

“Been dreamin’ to do this for months”, he growled. He bent Hanzo’s head backward, and planted a long sucking kiss on his pale, exposed throat. In reply he got a shiver and something that sounded much like a plea. His cock throbbed in Hanzo’s hand, and once more he felt like a teen at his first time: he didn’t think he could last very long if they kept going like this. His palm climbed up the crest of Hanzo’s hip and up again, cupping his right pec and squeezing hard, only to let go and draw gentle circles around the stiffening nipple.

Hanzo was quite clearly enjoying everything, if the way he punctuated every movement of his hips with panting moans and needy kisses was to be taken as an indication of his interest. And McCree was pretty sure that was the case.

But when his caress moved up to Hanzo’s collarbone, the sensation of something sticky and warm under his fingers breached through his mind. He stopped and pulled back minutely, taking his hand back.

It was dark, but the thick layer smeared on his fingertips, with its piercing scent of iron, was unmistakable.

“Honey, yer bleedin’”, he said with a pang of sincere concern. Hanzo, unbothered, grunted and grabbed him firmly at the base of his cock, slowly stroking him upwards and turning his thoughts to a mush of lust. McCree shook his head and tried his best to sound practical. “No, really, yer hurt and…”

A shadow passed over Hanzo’s face. His free hand grabbed McCree’s wrist, and under the astonished eyes of the cowboy he took his fingers in his mouth, licking the blood away without ever taking his eyes off him.

Hanzo let go with a sucking noise and grinned.

“It’s nothing - _again_ ”, he purred, and McCree felt drunk with desire.   
  
“You… that’s… that’s kinky as fuck”, he stuttered, and before Hanzo could let go of that devilish, gorgeous look of his, McCree was kissing him again, switching their positions so that now he was the one pushing the archer against the wall.

“Is that a… _fuck,_ Jesse”, and Hanzo spread his legs, chasing the friction McCree was happy to provide with the grinding of his hips. “Is that a problem?”

“Wanna know what’s a real problem?” He slid a hand between the other’s thighs and rubbed slowly. He wanted to listen forever to the sound Hanzo made – something between a wail and a growl – , because nothing had ever ignited his skin faster and harder.

“W-What?”

“I want to fuck you right here and now”, Hanzo moaned in his ear and McCree grinned.

“And what if I’m the one who wants your ass?”

“Well I won’t complain if Christmas comes earlier”. On the contrary, his cock throbbed at the idea. “But either way, this ain’t the right place”. It costed him his whole stock of determination to pull back with one last peck on those kiss-bruised lips, and Hanzo pouted. “Because I want it to be good – to be special. I want to take care of you and turn you to a whimpering mess, and this is not how…”

Hanzo pushed him back with a mischievous snicker and bit his lip.

“My place, then”.

McCree took his hand and walked backwards out of the alley.

“Your place. Or mine, or whatever. But let’s hurry, sunshine”.

As they resumed their run back to the base, McCree considered that it was going to be a very long way.

_But it’s gonna be a very long night, too. And we’ll make the most outta it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK YEAH MURDER BOYFRIENDS. Another one of my weaknesses out of a very long list.  
> Also yeah, that's a Dragon Age reference there, I'm predictable.  
> As you can imagine, next chapter will spice things up, so expect the rating to go up to E and some extra funny tags :3  
> Here, have your weekly dose of "thank you, you're all adorable and every feedback makes me ridiculously happy". It really means the world to me.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they reached the base, Hanzo felt like he could have exploded any minute. It took them too long to get back home, stopping every few meters to steal a kiss and remind each other how their night was going to end. 

It had been ages since he’d felt such a desire for another person, and McCree was too good for him to pass the occasion – he’d said he liked him, there was no mistaking his intentions this time, even if the inner voice of self-hatred insisted in whispering it was all a misunderstanding. Hanzo ignored it, drowning his concerns in the other man’s mouth, covering that little voice with their moans and the way McCree whispered his name against his lips.

They had to part and focus on more immediate and less satisfying necessities as they walked past the base’s door. Still holding his hand, McCree sneaked inside the building and checked around the corner; Hanzo was enraptured by the sight of their interlaced fingers, a simple, intimate gesture that ignited a fire deeper than the lust scorching his flesh and bones. He took a quiet, long breath that turned into a muffled gasp when McCree looked at him.

“Clear”, he said, a bit too loud to be a whisper. But that smile, those amber eyes narrowing in pure excitement made him forget any form of disapproval. He nodded and followed him down the corridor to the last door on the left – his room –  and it took him some determination to let go of the big hand in his own and place his palm over the pad on the wall. A beep, a flash of blue light, and the door opened.

Hanzo had never really cared about his quarters; his room was just a place to fall asleep night after night, exhausted from the hard training or yet another mission. He had never considered it home, but now that he was dragged inside, wrapped in a hot embrace, he realized he needed this. To let himself be vulnerable, to allow another person into his space – it was something important, but when McCree’s mouth captured his own once more, with the hiss of the door closing behind them, it didn’t really matter.

As negligible was the slight burn from the wound on his chest. All he wanted was to get rid of their clothes and feel  _ everything _ . Skin and muscles, a rough voice repeating his name like a prayer, that tongue now dancing with his own all over his body. He moaned when McCree carded his fingers through his hair and stooped to deepen the kiss, and even more when the bigger man pushed him back against the door. 

McCree was strong enough to grab Hanzo’s thighs and spread them, pulling him up and pinning him against the metal surface with the mere pressure of his bulk. Hanzo threw his head back and shivered at the bite closing on his throat, and who cared if it was going to leave a clear purple mark the next day? 

His cock throbbed in the tight confinement of his pants, a pulsation that reverberated in the rather impressive bulge rubbing against him. When McCree put him down was just to have a better access to other parts of his body – and damn, he needed to be touched and kissed and  _ ravished _ . Hanzo’s teeth sunk into the gunslinger’s lower lip, drawing a snarl from McCree’s throat, immediately choked by the tongue seeking his own. 

_ More _ .

Those big hands fumbled with the few buttons still holding his shirt in place; when McCree opened it on his chest and once more cupped his pecs, squeezing hard and panting in his ear, Hanzo felt dizzy. With a trembling hand he guided McCree’s kisses from his mouth to his neck, and almost regretted his decision when hot, swollen lips brushed his nipple. He was too sensitive, too needy, and the whine that escaped his mouth was so undignified he felt his face catch fire. But then McCree licked gently, the tip of his tongue insisting on the stiffening bud, and Hanzo stopped caring. He urged McCree forward, unable to keep his eyes open or his breath steady when a gentle bite turned into a sucking kiss, and then back into a bite, harder this time.

“Jesse…”

He needed to touch him more, but what if McCree had stopped the moment he moved his fingers? Rock hard, moaning, he bucked his hips in search for the friction he desperately craved.

Apparently, Jesse McCree was a very intuitive man – that, or Hanzo was being extremely clear with his needs – because he looked up, tongue sticking out in a slow caress over Hanzo’s nipple, and grinned. Long fingers found their way to his belt, undoing the fly of his pants in a swift movement; Hanzo tried to rock against that touch, but McCree had other plans: he slid his hand in his underwear, and at the first stroke of warm fingers down his erection Hanzo growled in blind pleasure.

“Look at you…” McCree’s voice was low and intense as he’d never heard it, trembling on his heated skin. “I want to see every part of you”, and he ran his thumb on the slick, hot head, spreading the fluid beading there. Hanzo gulped and closed his eyes, unable to control the breath itching in his chest. 

McCree straightened up and grabbed his open shirt, slipping his hand under the fabric and pulling it back.

“Wait – ouch!”

“What… oh, fuck, sorry, darlin’, I… didn’t mean to…”

McCree stood up with a worried look; Hanzo lifted his shoulder to check at the point where his button-down was sticking to his chest; it had long since stopped bleeding, but the dry blood was gluing the fabric to the wound. He winced and tried to peel it away, but it was unpleasant. He fumbled with the shirt, hissing through his teeth.

“It’s fine, I just have to tear it off and…”

McCree’s hand closed on his own; when Hanzo looked back at him, concern was giving way to a mischievous smirk.

“I have a better idea”. He picked him up, and instinctively Hanzo wrapped his arms and legs around him. Another kiss and they were moving. “I hope you don’t mind getting a little wet”.

Hanzo chuckled as McCree carried him across the room to the small bathroom. He hit the switch with his elbow as they traveled on the white tiles to the shower.

“Now you’re the one offering me the chance to crack a dirty pun”, he laughed in his ear, and McCree grunted with amusement against him.

“That was the plan, yeah, but for now…” He put Hanzo down under the shower and joined him, leaning forward as if he couldn’t stay away from his mouth – and surely that was true for Hanzo himself, the sting of the wound disappearing under the wave of lust of another kiss. It was a small, cramped place, and McCree had to squirm to get to the faucet; the first splash of cold water caught Hanzo completely off guard. The yelp he let out was a very unsexy sound, and McCree laughed harder than before.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, he said, sputtering water and towering over Hanzo, hands splayed on the wall on each side of his head. 

“That was not very erotic”, he replied, a huge grin on his lips. A lie, because the way McCree’s clothes clung to his body was hot beyond measure, and the cowboy clearly read it in Hanzo’s eyes. As water washed blood away, he cupped his face in one hand and ran his thumb over his lower lip.

“I bet we can change this”, and took a step back. Hanzo hadn’t fully realized his disheveled state, with his pants open to reveal the clear shape of his cock under the thin layer of his boxer briefs, even more evident now that he was soaked wet. His heart raced in his head, the pulse wild in his whole body, and when McCree knelt at his feet he whimpered softly. His hands moved on their own, laying trembling on the other man’s head and guiding him forward.

There was no need, though: McCree knew what he was doing. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down, blinking under the stream of water with a soft gasp of awe.

“Yer… even better than I expected”, he admitted. Hanzo wanted to say something – maybe snap one of his sassy replies – but as soon as he saw the pink tip of McCree’s tongue dart through his lips he knew he was lost. He stood still, drenched and panting, as the other man grabbed his cock at the base and brushed the slick head over his lips, licking slowly in tandem with the lazy movements of his hand.

It lasted forever, or so it seemed – gentle kisses and playful pretends of opening his mouth, only to flick his tongue on his slit, too gently to be satisfying and yet enough to make his head spin. Hanzo resorted to his whole stock of self-control, but there was only so much he could endure. Especially not the eager look in McCree’s eyes, fixed on his own. His fingers sunk in his wet hair and tug, a sharp command bolting through his bones.

“Suck it”, he growled, shame and decency long forgotten. McCree blushed, and this was a reward in itself, because the way his eyes widened and his pupils erased the golden brown of his irises immediately impressed in Hanzo’s memory. With a moan, his metal hand gripping Hanzo’s contracted thigh, he dipped his head and swallowed him down.

Hot and slick, muscles clenching around him, the small choking sound when his hips stuttered at the sudden flash of white-hot pleasure – Hanzo felt his knees give way and hunched forward. The hair sticking to his face was a nuisance, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to brush it away, enraptured by the sight of McCree sucking his dick as if it was their last day on earth. With every bob of his head, with every twitch of the muscles of his throat – Hanzo sneered in a desperate attempt to be cautious, but he soon found himself rolling his hips in the wet friction, fucking McCree’s mouth – the weight of desire in his stomach grew heavier. 

He arched against the tiles with a sticky sound and bared his teeth. If he insisted, if he didn’t stop there was no way he could…

McCree reacted in his place. He pulled back with a smirk and ran his hands down Hanzo’s legs, and then up again, a steely grip on his sides. 

“Did it work?” he asked, getting back on his feet. Hanzo’s brain refused to cooperate, mouth open and fingers still caught in the tangle of wet hair. What was he talking about again? Nevermind, he took McCree in for another kiss and forgot the whole world. The touch of metal, warm and smooth on his skin, brought him back to reality; McCree pushed his shirt back, and the fabric slid away easily from the wound, falling on the floor with a wet  _ splat _ . 

“Alright, that’s better”, McCree moaned as he finally got to ran his fingers up Hanzo’s back. He backed away, not leaving Hanzo even for a second, and hit the faucet. In the silence of the bathroom, only broken by the sound of their kisses and their quickened breath, his voice was the low rumble of a hurricane. “I want you so bad, angel”, and they were words, just words, but Hanzo’s cock leaped at how deep and hot they sounded. He grabbed the front of McCree’s shirt and walked backward out of the shower, straight to the bed without ever letting go of his lips.

He hit the mattress with the back of his legs and sat down, and McCree was about to fall on top of him, but Hanzo stopped him with a stern (if shaky) gesture of his hand.

“Strip for me. I want to look at you”, he purred, and no matter if the other man’s clothes were so wet they left little to the imagination: he wanted to take in every inch of skin and muscle, to watch as McCree shed the last barrier between their bodies.

McCree smiled – the smile of a predator, a hint of teeth and a flash of tongue licking his lips – and stood at the center of the room. His shirt had ripped at the seams on his shoulders during the fight, and now he didn’t even bother to unbutton it: he just grabbed the hem and pulled, exposing inches of tan skin and a map of pink scars telling a long story of adventures and danger, like the fresh blue and purple bruises reminding them of their adventure just hours before. Hanzo swallowed in vain, his neglected cock bouncing on his stomach as he stared, half laying on the bed and perched on his elbows. The shirt flew across the room and he finally could see him properly – broad shoulders and the soft dark fuzz on his stomach and chest, heavy muscles and the disconcerting shift from metal to flesh on his left elbow. 

_ Fuck _ , he thought, resisting the urge to reach down and touch himself. McCree apparently read his mind, because when he threw his head back and got hold of that obnoxious BAMF belt buckle he cocked an eyebrow.

“Don’t you even think about doin’ anything by yerself, darlin’. You said somethin’ about wanting my ass, didn’t you?”

He undid his belt and slowly – teasingly – rolled his pants and underwear down his thick thighs, and Hanzo couldn’t suppress a sound halfway through a moan and a whimper.

McCree was a big man, and this was impossible to miss. But he was way  _ bigger _ than his hand could have measured. His cock, flushed and hard, arched up to his navel, and Hanzo felt his mouth salivate at the sight.

“I… might have changed my mind”, he whispered, almost reverently. At this McCree blinked and lowered his head, the smile on his lips suddenly kind of shy.

“That’s a compliment if I’ve ever heard one”, he said. He looked up at Hanzo between his long lashes, and holy shit, he was adorable. “Will you let me...”

“Please  _ yes _ ”, he replied immediately, ignoring the suggestion of his dignity to play hard to get. McCree sighed dreamily and proceeded to take off his pants, a gesture Hanzo mirrored squirming on the bed.

Unfortunately, their trip under the shower required a fee, as Hanzo realized as he struggled to shimmy out of his slacks. Good for him he was laying down already, because as he struggled to peel the wet denim from his legs, McCree lost his balance. Spinning his arms around and leaping forward didn’t serve any purpose: with a muffled curse he fell to the floor. The thud of his harsh landing startled Hanzo, who crawled naked to the edge of the bed and looked down.

“Are you ok?” he asked, trying not to laugh. McCree lifted his arm and gave him a thumb up, kicking and wriggling until he managed to get rid of his boots, pants, and underwear.

“I got this, I swear”, he said, and Hanzo bit his tongue to stifle a giggle. That hilarious mixture of desire and laughter was the headiest sensation he’d ever felt, he thought as he rolled on his stomach and extended an arm to reach the night table. Every trace of residual embarrassment was gone when he opened the drawer and searched blindly for the bottle of lube.

The tilt of the mattress didn’t surprise him, and he spread his legs to make room for McCree climbing over him. A long path of kisses trailed up his spine, and he melted into the sensation of McCree’s hair and beard tickling his skin.

“Are you even real?” A reverent whisper in his ear, as the gunslinger finally lay on top of him and nuzzled his neck. Hanzo could feel the hot pressure of his cock along the cleft of his ass, and with a jolt of anticipation he looked behind his shoulder.

“What do you think, cowboy?” he teased, lifting his hips to grind against McCree. The breath against his neck turned to a trembling sigh, almost a sob, and he smirked in satisfaction.

“I… I hope you are, ‘cause otherwise I’d never want to wake from this dream”, and he kissed his shoulder. Hanzo kept on arching his back, his blood running faster with every pant they shared. Eventually he found the bottle and dropped it on the mattress, where McCree promptly retrieved it. He was still searching when he heard the small pop of the lid, and his fingers shook hard around the paper box he’d found as a cold drop glide down his skin. He forgot his quest and closed his eyes with a shiver when McCree’s flesh hand caressed him open, his slick fingers brushing gently his entrance.

Too gently, a touch that was intoxicating and definitely not enough. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned when the tip of a finger pressed steadily against him, sending a flicker of electricity through his nerves. 

_ Please, please do it, I can’t take it anymore, I need you now, I beg you, Jesse,  _ please…

But when McCree breached in, slowly pushing his index through the tight ring of muscles, Hanzo tensed. 

“Hey”, a gentle word to his ear, the soft brush of beard on his skin. “You alright?”

“I… yes”, he panted, and he realized it was true. The stretch was far from unbearable, and after a deep breath he relaxed. “It’s just… it’s been a while”.

McCree kissed his temple and the back of his neck, his metal hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of his back.

“Are you sure?”, and he pressed some more. This time the contraction of muscles rippling through Hanzo’s body was nothing like pain. He keened in the pillow and pushed back, nodding speechless. He felt the smile linger on his damp skin, and then McCree started to move. Slow at first, a steady rhythm he rocked against, desperate for more. And McCree was happy to oblige; this time, as a second finger carefully slipped in, slippery and warm, Hanzo welcomed the slight burn with a gasp and a sharp thrust backward. When McCree bent his fingers inside him, brushing just the right spot over and over again, Hanzo lost it entirely; his ragged breath shifted to a shameless panting, and he was this close to letting go of his residual control and beg.

“Yer doin’ so good, honey, so good”, he moaned in his ear, and Hanzo turned his face on the side to meet the tongue searching for his own. “Just like that. Open up nice and good for me, would you?”

There would have been no need to ask, because Hanzo couldn’t stop from jerkin backward, fucking himself open on McCree’s fingers. He couldn’t open his eyes and didn’t care if the beastly sound crawling through his lips sounded like a plea. 

He was past that point already.

His cock throbbed painfully against his stomach, and he knew how quickly he’d come if only he’d slid a hand between his body and the bed to stroke himself. But that’s not what they wanted, and from the bottom of his consciousness floated an immediate necessity.

“If… if you keep doing this I… fuck,  _ fuck  _ do it again”, he whined as those skilled fingers found the sensitive spot again, pressing it insistently. Hanzo was nearly drooling on the pillow. “The condom. I’ve got to…” and he extended a hand to the side table.

“Oh. Right”. McCree didn’t stop, only slowed down his pace, thus making Hanzo even more frantic in his attempts at getting  _ more _ . Still, something was suddenly different, and Hanzo opened his eyes. 

McCree was as flushed as he was, lips soft and swollen with desire and a strange light in his eyes.

“Don’t wanna push you to do anything you don’t want, but… A-Angela checked me out last week, and I’m clean, so if… if you want…”

He was right, of course. One of the perks of being an Overwatch agent was the exceptional healthcare, and Hanzo himself had been tested for every known disease, infection, parasite and virus and found healthy as a horse. He bit his lip in an impish grin and bore McCree’s stare; a slap of his hand and the drawer slammed shut, and McCree growled. The grip on Hanzo’s side tightened, and after one last vicious thrust he pulled away. 

Hanzo, open and needy, whimpered at the sudden emptiness but found no time to complain. McCree rolled his hair around his fist and leaned closer, and according to the slick sounds that resonated in the small room he was preparing himself.

“Alright, sunshine, you ready? If… if it’s too much just say it, I beg you, ok?”

“Try me”, he retorted, grinning, and turned to meet an equally naughty stare on McCree’s side.

“Love myself a challenge”, and he yanked Hanzo’s head backward, tugging sharply at his hair. “On yer hands and knees, if you please”.

The burning in his scalp was the perfect addition to the flame in his body, and Hanzo got on his knees in a second. 

The reward for his obedience arrived shortly after. Gaping, lube dripping between his legs, Hanzo was nearly crying out in frustration.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Hanzo, I… I can’t believe it. Look at you…”

He lined himself up, and Hanzo held his breath when he felt the blunt tip brush against his ass. He wanted to push back and take him all in, he needed to feel the pain and the stretch and the burn, but he was old enough to know better. So he waited, neck bent backward and hands clawing at the sheets, as McCree pushed – slowly, carefully, until a ring of fire bloomed in his flesh. He growled and squeezed his eyes shut, tears sparkling on his lashes, but didn’t move. 

“Fuck – yer tight as a vice, honey, it feels so good…”

It almost hurt, and Hanzo loved it so much he let go of dignity.

“P-Please”, he gasped, and that little word sent a shock of urgency through McCree’s fingers. He slithered in, breathing hard through his nose, and eventually it was Hanzo who rocked his hips back until they were flushed together with a sharp slap. 

“Babe –  _ fuck _ ”, McCree said again, almost shocked, but Hanzo could barely hear him. Nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming sensation of being stretched out to his limit, completely full and yet still eager. They stood still for a long moment, and as soon as Hanzo felt suffering fade away, leaving only need behind, he trembled on his arms and moved slowly.

McCree took the hint. His prosthetic clasped on Hanzo’s waist and he rolled his hips once, tentatively. Hanzo reacted with such an enthusiasm it surprised him, encouraging the cowboy with needy little sounds and jerks of his ass. 

It was only a matter of seconds before McCree unleashed his own lust, and the air filled with their rasping sounds, with the slap of flesh and skin. He pulled Hanzo’s hair harder, forcing him to stand up against his body and pinching his nipple once more.

“You… you are amazin’”, he stuttered, and Hanzo leaned his head back against his shoulder. He wanted to answer, but his whole mind and body were taken by the massive cock sliding in and out of him, lighting sparkles behind his closed eyelids. McCree rubbed his thumb on his nipple in sync with every brutal thrust, and soon they both were moaning incoherently. 

A part of him wanted to touch himself, chasing the release that grew more impending with every stroke of McCree’s cock inside him, but Hanzo knew how to be patient – even if it was driving him insane, he resisted the temptation and threw his hands behind him, grabbing McCree’s hair. Faster, harder, too good for his own sanity: Hanzo was all too aware of the droplets of precum trickling down his erection, of the tension quickly building up between lewd, muttered encouragements.

McCree stopped abruptly and pulled out, leaving Hanzo empty and confused. He let his arms fall to his sides and turned around, but before he could ask a single question McCree grabbed his hips and threw him on his back on the bed. 

“Sorry, darlin’, but I want to look at your face”, and he spread Hanzo’s legs with his thigh, stalking forward. He grabbed his cock and searched for the entrance, still pliant and ready, and pushed in. Hanzo arched his back and bit the back of his hand to choke the legitimate cry that exploded from his chest. McCree hunched forward and slid his hands behind Hanzo’s knees, his mouth quivering against the archer’s as he started to move again. “I want to see how beautiful you are”. He licked his lips and Hanzo wanted to reciprocate, but he could barely control his movements. “I… I want to kiss you”.

“Jesse…”

His name, a muffled cry was all he could gather. McCree groped and kneaded and made his way up to his sides, grabbing him steadily and pulling him up until he was half on his lap. At this new angle, his strokes were deeper, and Hanzo started to see stars in the darkness. With every thrust the tension built higher, and the look on McCree’s sweaty face was nearly the fatal blow. Hooded eyes, spit-slick lips contracted on gritted teeth, muscles twitching on his thick neck, on his shoulders as he sunk deeper inside him – Hanzo’s voice croaked between his gasps.

“Jesse… you are…  _ mine _ ”. And despite the passion blinding him, he saw it. A glimmer in the cowboy’s eyes, a flash of something pure and bright that pierced his heart. 

There was going to be a time for that, too, but right now all he wanted was to see McCree turn into a beast of absolute lust under his touch. The only problem? He was painfully close, and when McCree leaned forward to kiss him again, sliding a hand between them and wrapping it around Hanzo’s cock, things went downhill pretty fast.

“Tell me you like it”, the cowboy groaned on his lips, and the first stroke, still slick with lube and precum, made Hanzo howl. “Come on. Tell me, angel…”

“Yeah”, he managed to stutter, taken over by the growing pleasure. And it looked like McCree himself was not that far away, if the uneven, savage thrusts of his cock inside him were to be taken as an indication. 

His steel fingers were still digging into Hanzo’s side, strong enough to leave bruises – and the idea formed in his mind. Hanzo hooked his ankles behind the other man’s back and took his hand, moving it to his throat and squeezing.

McCree’s eyes went wide with surprise, and then with shocked arousal as Hanzo pressed his fingers into the soft flesh of his neck. That hand could very well tear metal apart and crush a man’s skull – and here it was, choking him at his command. Not so different from riding a tiger.

His chest was on fire, and his skin was prickling with the vanguard of his incoming orgasm. Hanzo closed his eyes and drowned in the thickening shadows – colors existing only in his head, the humming of blood the only sound apart from McCree’s muffled rambling – and let it build up.

That was it. The lack of air and the awareness of how filthy he was being pushed him over the edge, and Hanzo let out a strangled scream, arching up in McCree’s lap and letting all that maddening tension snap in a blaze of pleasure. He squirmed and clenched around McCree, coming in thick spurts all over his stomach and chest – again, and again, and it lasted so long his world faded to black and stopped existing around him.

McCree fucked him through his orgasm, and it was only a matter of seconds before he was done, too. Hanzo hadn’t winded down completely, still half blacked-out after the most mind-blowing climax he could remember, when McCree moaned his name, dipping his head on his chest and letting go inside him with a fast series of frantic thrusts. One last flush of his hips and he shook, falling on top of Hanzo with a trembling sigh.

For what seemed like hours they stood like that, with McCree breathing heavily and Hanzo running unsteady hands up his back and neck, through his damp hair and on his face. Eventually, though, the demanding needs of anatomy voiced their requests.

“Jesse… Jesse, I can’t breathe”, he grunted, and McCree snorted and rolled at his side, slipping out with a heartfelt sigh.

“Sorry, honey. There’s a place and time for choking, right?”

Hanzo thought he was past the point of blushing, but he was wrong. He covered his eyes with his hands and chuckled, boneless and sated. A long, sweet kiss surprised him, but before he could open his eyes McCree was leaving the bed. A few seconds later Hanzo heard the soft sound of running water, and when he looked to the bathroom he saw McCree stagger toward him with a towel in hand. He relaxed and let him clean up the mess, basking in the deference of the touch wiping him.

Eventually, McCree threw the towel away and sat back on his haunches, looking at Hanzo with such a tenderness it was almost painful. Hanzo squinted as he sat up; his whole body was sore, and he loved it, but there was something unsaid between them.

“So”, said McCree, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, a bit shy. “Now I suppose I’ll have to…”

Hanzo took his hand and squeezed until McCree’s eyes were back in his own.

“You don’t have to leave, you know?” he said in a small voice. He cleared his throat and allowed a hopeful smile to blossom on his lips. “Actually, I would really like if you stayed…”

It was as if the sun was rising behind McCree’s eyes. He stared at Hanzo in complete silence for a while, and he was pretty sure he was blinking more than usual.

“You mean…”  
  
“… exactly what I said. You can stay for the night, and… and some more, if you…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. McCree tackled him and they both fell bouncing on the bed, and Hanzo would have liked to say something else, or to scold the cowboy for his physical displays of joy, but how could he speak when his face was being covered in frenzied kisses? He winced a bit to adjust himself and then gave up, throwing his arms around McCree’s neck and kissing him back. Now, without the animalistic urge to have him inside him, he could fully savor the sweetness of his lips, the languid caress of his tongue, and a happiness he’d never thought possible invaded him.

When McCree pulled back, perched on his hands, their noses gently touching, Hanzo saw it again. That bright sparkle was back, and it shone in his heart, too. He got lost in those gentle dark eyes and sighed, and then…

“Hanzo, I love you”.

The words fell in his soul and rippled in circles through his whole being. Speechless, Hanzo blinked, but McCree shook his head.

“I… I know, it’s rushed, it’s too early and everything, but… look, you don’t have to answer, I’m not sayin’ this because I want you to say it back, ok? It’s alright”. He sighed and tucked a tousled strand of raven hair behind Hanzo’s ear. “But I needed you to know that  _ you are loved _ . That you’re not alone, and…”

Hanzo shut his mouth with a kiss, and not just because those lips were addictive. He needed time, not to think but to let his voice calm down. After a second of surprise, McCree reciprocated, and it was his time to raise his eyebrows in perplexity when the kiss ended as abruptly as it had started.

“I love you too, you foolish, wonderful man”, he confessed, and despite his efforts, he still sounded clogged with emotions. The resulting hug, all shaky hands and thundering hearts, felt like coming home after a lifetime of exile.

He was in love. He’d been since the beginning, probably, when he was still too angry and remorseful to consider himself capable or worthy of anything but bitterness. And yet here he was, with a sweet, noisy cowboy repeating endlessly how much he loved him and how happy he was going to make him.

_ Of that, Jesse McCree, I have no doubt. _

He pushed him away to regain some room on his bed, but curled contentedly in the other man’s arms. The scratch on his chest was itching again, and he rolled his shoulder to ease the slight burn.

McCree ran a finger from his cheekbone to his neck, and down to the bruised skin around the wound.

“You think it needs stitches?”

“No, it’s stopped bleeding hours ago, see? Besides”, and he nestled closer, breathing in the smell of McCree’s skin, “I’d hate to bother Angela for such a small thing right now”.

“And I’d hate to see you go”.

He kissed his forehead, and for a long time none of them spoke. Still, Hanzo knew McCree wasn’t asleep, and was not surprised to hear him once more.

“… anyway, just to be completely sure – is  _ this _ a thing? I mean, are we a thing?”

Hanzo huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of people you used to hang out with, but I usually don’t say ‘I love you’ if I don’t want things to get serious”. Then doubt stung through his heart. “You… you don’t either, right?”

McCree looked positively traumatized and stared at Hanzo in complete disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I want to be with you! But”, and he raised his forefinger in warning, “this means one thing”. He poked Hanzo’s side with that same finger, making him wince and giggle.

“What?”

“It  _ was _ a date. And you asked me out!”

“You… you’re absurd!”   
“And right”. He kept on tickling him, and Hanzo kicked the sheets.

“Stop it!”

“No way, I love the sound of your laughter, and I want to hear it every day of my life”. But he did stop, leaning in for a kiss as sweet as the first day of spring.

Hanzo calmed down and sighed.

He loved him, and he was loved, and everything was going to be alright.

He could very well forgive Genji and his little friends for their secret operation.

 

 

“You heard that?” Lena was as white as a sheet as the reached Lúcio and Hana in the middle of the dark corridor.

“A shooting downtown, yes”. Lúcio was as shocked as her, and Hana clung to his hand. She would have enjoyed the contact with his fingers, hadn’t she been so worried.

“I know, right? But I didn’t get where, or what happened, only that there were some dead people and…”

“Not  _ them _ , right? I mean – we would know if anything had happened to Hanzo or Jesse”. She sounded terrified, and Lúcio let her go, only to hold her closer with his arm.

“Does anybody know where they were going? Like… oh, Genji, here you are!” he said, turning to the source of the green glow in the darkness. The ninja reached them in a second and took his faceplate away, revealing a furrowed brow and deadly serious eyes.

“Jack and Ana are discussing some trouble in town. Do you three know anything more?”

“We were hoping you had some news”, said Lena, nervously fidgeting with her hands. “All I heard is that a gang of misfits stormed into a restaurant, but they all died, and the police have no idea who killed them – apart from some witnesses talking about a tall bearded guy and a very angry Japanese man”.

Hana sighed and shook her head, leaning closer to Lúcio.

“It’s them, right? But where are…”

“Athena”, Genji interrupted her and looked up to the ceiling.

“Yes, agent Shimada?”

“Where is my brother?”

For a second the AI didn’t answer, and the group collectively held its breath. Then the flat voice resonated all around them.

“He’s in his room”.

Lena sighed in relief, as did Lúcio, but Hana and Genji exchanged an identical look of disconcern. When Genji spoke again, without taking his eyes off the girl, he sounded something else than simply worried for his brother.

“He’s fine, right?”

“I only detect minimal physical injuries. In your words, he’s  _ fine _ ”.

“Good. And – er – where is agent McCree?”

Another long silence, and when Athena replied Hana was sure there was something hidden in her voice.

“He’s in his room, too”.

“... Athena,  _ whose  _ room?”

“This is… not relevant”, the AI said. 

“Blimey – he’s in Hanzo’s room”, whispered Lena, covering her mouth with her hands. Her smile shone through her fingers.

“I didn’t say that, agent Oxton”.

“No, Athena, but you’ve just given yourself away!” Lúcio bounced in place and squeezed Hana in a giant hug, something that made her heart flutter – both in happiness for their two friends and for herself.

“So they are… together, and they are…” Genji vaguely gestured to the wall, and Athena was happy to finish for him.

“Engaging in mating rituals, yes”.   
“ _ Really _ ?” beamed Lena and Hana in one voice, exchanging a huge, bright grin.

“That’s too much information! I need to wash my eyes with bleach, I don’t want to live with the image of my brother and my best friend fucking – why would you do that to me, Athena? Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“You asked, agent Shimada. Do you need more details or…”

“No!” All four of them replied in one voice. Lena was the first to start giggling, soon joined by the others. Even Genji, still a bit horrified at the thought of Hanzo and McCree and their ‘mating rituals’, joined in, shaking his head.

“Well, this is it then. If we managed to get those two together despite everything there’s nothing we can’t do”, said Hana, looking up at Lúcio with a smile. He kissed the top of her head and nodded.

And it was true, after all. Because it all started out as little more than a joke, but now Overwatch’s foundations were a little bit stronger, and Hana was proud of herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm early. But come on, it's Halloween! I wanted to celebrate my own way.  
> So here you go, the most ridiculous, smutty happy ending I could think of.   
> Once again, thank you all - every single one of you - for reading and keeping up with this poor author's nonsense. I hope you had fun reading!


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